The Fire Still Burns
by ScarlettKate1013
Summary: AU - Carly broke up with Bo and left Salem with Nicholas and Melanie. Bo and Hope reunited and renewed their vows. But will things ever really be over for Bo and Carly?
1. Chapter 1

_AU - Carly's drug abuse storyline didn't exist. Instead, Carly, fearing that Bo will eventually leave her for Hope, breaks up with him and leaves town with Melanie and Nicholas. Her relationship restored with her children, Carly has established a new life for herself in Los Angeles. She's working as a general surgeon at Ronald Regan UCLA Medical Center and Melanie as a pediatric nurse there. Bo and Hope have reunited and have tried to move forward. Oh, and you'll notice that Ciara has been SORAS'd - if the soaps can do it, so can Kate._

 _This story is dedicated to my sweet friend, **Carbo4ever** , who sent me a text one day asking if I'd ever heard If You See Him/If You See Her by Reba McEntire and Brooks & Dunn. She thought it was the perfect post-breakup song for Bo & Carly and asked for a fic based on it. So here we are. The title of the story comes from that song. Many thanks to **Scousedancer** for her excellent beta skills and willingness to help out when she isn't even familiar with the fandom._

 _Final warning - turn back now if Bo & Carly as a pair offends you. They aren't quite together yet, but they will be. I've gone ahead with a M rating because our lovely couple will get there, too, eventually._

 _Disclaimer - DOOL and its characters belong to Corday & NBC. No copywrite infringement intended; I'm only playing with the characters they didn't seem to really want anymore._

 _Chapter One_

 _March 28, 2011…_

Bo lay on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling of the bedroom he shared with Hope. His wife lay beside him, and though she was still, Bo could tell from her intermittent sighs that she was as wide awake as he. Scant inches separated their bodies, but their emotional distance was immeasurable. Though they had been living together again for the last few months - ever since Carly had left town - to Bo, they had never been farther apart. There had been no fights, no disagreements, no arguments of any kind; neither had there been any passion, romance or intimacy – if Bo were honest, there was nothing between them at all.

Echoing Hope's most recent sigh, Bo closed his eyes momentarily before he rolled to his side. He punched his pillow twice, trying to find a comfortable position. Hope shifted when he moved, turning on the bedside lamp. She turned to regard her husband, a man who, at one point in her life, she'd have sworn she knew better than any other. The edge of his dagger tattoo was visible in the golden glow of the lamp, and she watched, detached, as her hand rose from the bed. She very nearly touched that familiar etching, but her hand stopped short and fell heavily against the mattress. The muscles in Bo's back tensed at the sound of her hand striking the bed, but he didn't follow through with an inquiry as to her state of mind.

Not that Hope had any idea as to what she might say to him if Bo were to ask her what was bothering her; in her most frank and truthful moments with herself, Hope could admit that the state of her marriage was worse than it had ever been. Since she and Bo had reconciled, they'd not had a single disagreement. Considering some of the knock-down, drag-out fights they'd experienced in the past, constant peace in their marriage might not be so bad. But for all they agreed, they never seemed to be able to bridge the gap between them. Not long ago, Hope would have complained to all and sundry that the distance between her and Bo was filled with Carly Manning. But now, months after the woman had left Salem for good, Hope finally understood that the gap between herself and her husband was filled with nothing so much as their own failures with one another. That knowledge left her hollow, empty, and longing for something that she knew in the most secret chambers of her heart could no longer be found in Bo.

Across the bed, Bo remained motionless and awake, staring at the wall rather than the ceiling. In the blank canvas of the wall, he saw a vivid image of the rest of his life – night after night spent in silence and mediocrity with the familiar stranger who was his wife. Suddenly, Bo felt as if he couldn't breathe. The weight of the endless nights ahead of him pressed down on his heart, and for a split second, he was certain he was having a heart attack. Then, with soul-searing clarity, one thought broke through the quagmire of hopelessness that threatened to suffocate him.

 _I don't have to live like this._

 _I don't_ want _to live like this._

Sitting up, Bo turned to face Hope. "We need to talk," he said without preamble.

Hope didn't answer at first, sliding up to prop against the headboard. She spread her hands out on her lap, palms up, before turning them over to fiddle with the fabric of the blanket that covered her from the waist down. She allowed herself to look in Bo's eyes before she took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, we do."

Bo looked at Hope, truly looked at her, for the first time nearly a year, suddenly unsure as to how to proceed. But something he glimpsed in her expression gave him the courage to forge ahead.

"Hope, this isn't working." He motioned between the two of them. "You and I, there just isn't…"

Hope cleared her throat. "Anything there?" She supplied, and the relief she felt at having given voice to the thought was evident.

"You, too?" He was genuinely surprised, albeit grateful, that she seemed to feel the same. When she nodded slowly, Bo exclaimed, "Thank God! I was beginning to think it was just me."

Hope smiled sadly. "No, I've felt it, too. I guess I was just hoping that things would…get better, that we could pick up where we left off and salvage our marriage. But now," she paused on a shuddering breath. "Now, I don't think there's anything left to salvage, Bo."

"Hope, I, listen, you have to know that I never meant for it to be this way," Bo explained hastily. "When I came back to you, I had every intention of fulfilling my marriage vows to you, but I just, I tried, Hope, but I couldn't then, and I can't now."

"Oh, Bo, it isn't just you, remember? It's me, too, and if we're being completely honest, I knew when you came back to me, it wasn't going to work. It was as if, once I didn't have to fight for you, I was forced to acknowledge that it was more about the _idea_ of loving you than it was about actually loving you," Hope paused again, the full truth of what she'd just expressed hitting her like a ton of bricks. She gasped, covering her hand with her mouth. "Bo, I'm so, so sorry! I, what I did to you, to us, it's awful! Don't you see? You came back to me, and all either of us has been for months, is miserable!"

"Hope, no, it isn't just your fault. We're both to blame, we did this to each other. I came back to you out of obligation disguised as love. We've been going through the motions, but that's all it is. We're like actors in a play, just reading the lines from a script that we both think we're supposed to be performing. We're just…existing. We're not living, and I don't want to do that anymore."

"Neither do I, Bo," Hope agreed at once. "For months, I've had this terrible, awful ache in my heart because I felt guilty for trying to hold onto you and, at the same time, guilty for wanting to push you away. I just, I didn't have the strength to do either," she finished pitifully.

"Complete honesty, right?" Bo questioned, reaching across the space between them to take her hand in his. He made no attempt to thread their fingers together, and neither did she. They simply clasped hands, their palms touching. Hope nodded, and Bo continued. "I haven't been happy, not for a long time, and from what you've said, neither have you. Hope, I don't believe that you can make me happy."

"And I don't think that you can make me happy anymore, Bo." It was Hope's turn to take a lengthy pause, and Bo found himself studying her intently. "I think that it would be best if we go our separate ways. I want a divorce."

She met his gaze head on; there was no hesitation, no quiver in her tone, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he could detect no trace of guile in her eyes. "So do I," he replied. "But what about Ciara? She's only 15, and she had such a hard time the last time we split up, Hope." Thinking of his little girl, Bo felt the first stirrings of hesitation.

Hope squeezed his hand before sliding her palm from underneath his. "Bo, I have a confession to make. Do you remember when I took Ciara shopping a few weeks ago, to get her new clothes for her drama camp?"

Bo nodded, confusion clouding his eyes. "Sure, why, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, it would seem that our daughter is smarter than her parents," she said sardonically.

Bo snorted. "No surprise there."

"We stopped to have lunch at the little French bistro she likes so much, and while we were eating, she asked me why you and I had gotten back together."

Bo's eyes widened comically, but he made no move to interrupt so Hope continued with her story.

"I asked her what she meant, and she looked at me with that same expression you get when you know that someone is trying to feed you a line of BS and said, 'Mom, I'm not stupid. You and Daddy act like you're complete strangers. You never talk to each other, unless it's through other people. You never touch one another. Both of you act like you're serving a prison sentence when you're forced to interact with each other, and honestly, you're making me just as miserable as you two seem to be.'"

"She really said all that?" Bo asked, and Hope nodded. "What did you tell her?"

"I couldn't tell her anything, Bo. I felt so terrible that we'd put our daughter through so much pain, even when we were trying to do what we thought was the right thing. She realized immediately that she'd upset me, and all she did was squeeze my hand and tell me she loved us both, and she hoped that we'd figure out what we needed to make ourselves happy because what we'd been doing was only hurting us all."

Bo sighed heavily, then, his eyes closing briefly against the shame that his daughter's truth evoked. "Christ, we really fucked up, didn't we?"

"Yeah, I think we did," Hope agreed. "But we've got a chance now to fix this."

"Are you sure, I mean, are you being completely honest with me, Fancy Face?" Bo asked, watching her carefully for any tell-tale signs that she had an ulterior motive. God knew, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I am, Bo," came her earnest response. "Part of me will always love you, we've shared too much for me to ever think of otherwise. But the truth is, our journey together ended a long time ago, and I'm scared that if we continue to try and force ourselves to live a lie, we'll end up destroying what good memories we do have of one another."

Bo nodded in understanding. "I feel the same way, and now, after learning how Ciara feels…what kind of an example are we setting for her? We tell her all the time that she should be true to herself, that she should follow her heart. All we've done for months is show her how to do the exact opposite."

"She'll be all right, Bo, you'll see," Hope assured him. "Look, she'll be home from Drama Camp at the end of the week. We'll talk to her, then. We can't make up for the pain we've caused her and each other, but we can do our damnedest to be better for her in the future."

"Do you want me to go ahead and have the papers drawn up?" Bo asked. It seemed surreal to him, to be sitting in bed, planning to divorce his wife while the two of them discussed the details; yet, it also felt like the most honest conversation they'd had in years.

"I'd appreciate it if you would," Hope answered. "I don't want to fight with you about anything, not even Ciara. At her age, she's more than old enough to decide where she'd like to spend her time and with whom. I want us to have joint custody, and we'll let her set her own schedule. Is that all right with you?"

Bo smiled, then, and it was an expression that Hope hadn't seen on his face in far too long. She couldn't even recall the last time he'd looked at her that way. "It's more than okay with me, Hope, but I'd like for you and Ciara to stay here, in the house. You should have it. I'll get an apartment until I decide what I want to do on a more permanent basis."

"That sounds great, Bo," Hope answered. "Will you talk to your attorney tomorrow?"

Bo chuckled a bit. "Well, sure, if you're that anxious to get rid of me. What's the matter, you got a hot date or something?" He joked, and Hope found herself laughing along with him.

"No, no, it's nothing like that, it's just…I feel like for so long I've been living in the dark. I've been so unhappy, and I know you have, too. I already feel better, now that we've come to a decision, but I'm ready to start living again, like you said. I want to be happy again."

Bo squeezed her hand once before sliding his away. "I want that, too, Hope, more than anything."

Hope smiled genuinely. "Well, I guess that settles it, doesn't it?" Then she yawned suddenly, giggling a bit behind her hand. "Sorry about that," she mumbled, but Bo shook his head.

"You know, I'm feeling pretty sleepy, myself. I think I'll camp out in Ciara's room for the rest of the night." He stood from the bed and straightened the covers up. "Goodnight, Hope." He smiled at her before turning and heading to the open bedroom door.

"Goodnight, Bo," she replied before turning off the lamp. As she drifted off to sleep, peaceful for the first time in ages, she marveled that even though she was now alone in the bed, she felt far less lonely than she had when Bo had lain beside her.

Down the hall in Ciara's room, Bo fell instantly asleep. In the morning, he woke refreshed, a renewed sense of hope and purpose welling within him. His dreams had been peppered with memories of a sultry night in _Chichen Itza,_ an emerald-eyed temptress in his arms; of nights on a boat, wrapped up with that same woman, bodies melded so closely together that it was impossible to tell where one began and one ended; of every kiss, every touch, every longing gaze the two of them had ever shared. And as he left the house to begin his day, Bo made a heartfelt vow to himself – no matter how long it took, no matter how hard he had to fight, one way or another, he'd win back Carly Manning's love. Then, and only then, would he be truly happy.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

Justin Kiriakis sat at his desk, dumbstruck by what Bo had just told him. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at his cousin, trying to gage what the other man was thinking. For his part, Bo allowed his news to sink in and waited to see if Justin would agree to help him. After several moments of silence, though, Bo rolled his eyes and leaned forward on Justin's desk.

"Look, man, it ain't rocket science. I'm not asking you to negotiate world peace, either. I just wanna know if you can help Hope and me by drawing up our divorce papers."

Justin blinked stupidly before shaking his head a couple of times to get his bearings. "Bo, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to give me a minute to wrap my head around this."

Bo shrugged his shoulders before settling back in his own chair. "Well, fine, but I don't see what's got you so flustered about it."

Justin gasped in shock, his temper starting to fire. "Excuse me, _Cousin_ , but you're the one who turned up at my office at the crack of dawn, telling me that you and your wife are ready to call it quits not three months after you renewed your wedding vows. What's the matter," he asked, his lips curling in a vicious sneer. "Did Carly show up and accidentally trip into your bed again?"

Clenching his fist as his own anger reared its head, Bo opened his mouth to retort, but then he thought better of it. Exhaling slowly to rein in his emotions, he replied instead, "This has nothing to do with Carly. This is about Hope and me, and the decision that we have made to end things. Now, knowing in what high… _regard_ you hold Hope, I came to you because I thought you would work in her best interests, even if you don't give a damn about mine, _Cousin_. Since that doesn't appear to be the case, I'll take my business elsewhere." He stood and made to leave, but Justin called out to him.

"Bo, wait. Just sit down and give me just a minute, okay?" When Bo had once again taken his seat, Justin continued speaking. "I never said I wouldn't help you. I just, I don't understand what happened. I thought things were going well between you and Hope."

Bo sighed heavily. "We tried, Justin, we did. But it's like I said all along, Hope and I have had problems for years, and we were never able to fully resolve them, no matter what we did. This time, we both realized that there isn't anything left to resolve. We had a long talk last night, and we were honest with one another for the first time in ages. We've been miserable, and what's worse, we've been making our daughter miserable." He then relayed Hope and Ciara's conversation with Justin. Justin, no stranger to those types of conversations with his own boys, was not entirely unsympathetic, and he said as much to Bo.

"So you'll help us, then?" Bo asked hopefully. Justin was silent for a long moment, but then he nodded his head.

"You understand, though, that I'd like to talk with Hope first before I draw up the papers," Justin cautioned.

"That's fine, she'll tell you the same things that I've told you. I would appreciate it if you'd keep this to yourself, at least until the end of the week. When Ciara gets home from Drama Camp on Friday, Hope and I are going to talk with her. Then we'll tell Shawn. We just want our kids to hear this from us, first. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Bo. I'm a father, too, remember?" Justin replied.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it," Bo stood and offered Justin his hand. "Look, I'd better get to the office, but you can call me if you have any questions."

"Will do, and I'll set something up with Hope as soon as I can. If this is really something you both want, I'll do my best to help you." His cousin promised.

Bo nodded and thanked Justin once more before leaving. As soon as his cousin was gone, Justin dialed Hope's number.

"Hope, hi, it's Justin," he said when she answered.

"Hi, Justin, I thought I might hear from you this morning," she explained while trying to add cream to her coffee. "I take it Bo came to see you?"

A little surprised at the cheery tone of her voice, he responded, "As a matter of fact, he did. He asked me to help you guys with a divorce."

"I know, and listen, I'd love to talk now, but I've got several things at the station to take care of first thing. I don't suppose you're free for lunch?" she asked.

Justin smiled into the phone. "For you, Hope, my calendar is always open. What do you say to _Giancarlo's_ at 11:00? It's a bit early, I know, but it won't be too crowded at that hour."

" _Giancarlo's_ sounds great. I'll see you then." She disconnected the call, slipping her phone into her back jeans pocket.

At precisely 11:00 a.m., Hope entered the quaint, little Italian restaurant known as _Giancarlo's._ The _maître d_ led her to Justin's table, who rose in greeting and helped her into her seat. Hope thanked him, her wide mouth curved into a welcoming grin.

"Justin, I really can't thank you enough for taking care of this for Bo and me," she explained after taking a sip of her ice water. "He and I both are extremely anxious to get this over with."

"Hope, as I told Bo this morning, I'm more than happy to act as your attorney, but I have to tell you that this is quite a surprise. If you don't mind my asking, what happened? What went wrong?" He regarded her carefully as he awaited her response.

Hope leaned onto her elbows so that she could speak more quietly. She didn't think anyone would be eavesdropping, but an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure, when it came to gossiping Salemites. "I think that life happened, Justin. Bo and I are no strangers to problems, but the truth is, he and I have spent the last few years doing nothing so well as tearing each other to shreds. And I think this last time, when I took Ciara and he fell back in love with Carly, I think that was the proverbial last straw. Too many things have happened, we've hurt one another so deeply that there isn't anything left between us."

"Hope, listen to yourself," Justin advised her. "Yes, you and Bo have experienced your ups and downs, but no matter what, he always comes back to you. He always chooses you. Don't you see? He chose you over Billie Reed, and he chose you over Carly Manning."

But Hope shook her head gently. "Don't _you_ see? Bo might have chosen me, and I, him, but it's all a farce. We've been going through the motions. Even when we renewed our vows, it was because we felt like it was expected of us. We each thought we were doing what it took to make the other person happy, but you can't make another person happy, Justin, not if you aren't happy within yourself. Bo Brady hasn't been able to make me happy in a very long time, and I certainly haven't brought him any joy. We're tired of living a lie, and we both decided last night that we weren't willing to put ourselves and Ciara through that kind of emotional torture and longer."

Justin's protest was interrupted by the waiter. Hope cast a quick eye at the menu and ordered the Shrimp Nicola while Justin requested the Veal Satimbocca. When the waiter was gone, Justin took a healthy sip of his iced tea before he responded to Hope.

"I guess I just find it a little hard to believe that you and Bo are really done," he said at last.

"Well, it's a bit strange, I'll admit," Hope answered with a chuckle. "But at the same time, oh, Justin, I can't remember the last time I felt so excited about the future. I woke up this morning, exhilarated, and last night, after Bo and I hashed everything out, I slept better than I have in months."

Hope's deep, brown eyes were sparkling, and Justin thought that she'd never looked so lovely. Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy glow, and she seemed to radiate serenity. Decision made, he took her left hand – devoid already of her wedding band, he noted – and gave her a friendly squeeze.

"In that case, I'll be happy to help you and Bo." His warm smile crinkled his eyes, and his dimples came out to play. An answering grin bloomed on her face, and she held his hand, warm and comforting in hers, for a moment longer than might have been necessary. The moment was disturbed by the arrival of their lunch. Like two teenagers caught holding hands in class, they pulled away simultaneously, Hope moving so quickly that she nearly knocked over her water glass.

"So, how long do you think it will take you to get the papers drawn?" She asked once she'd righted her glass.

Justin retrieved a single slip of paper from his briefcase. "This is what Bo told me you'd agreed on." He handed the paper to her and recited its contents from memory. As short of a list as it was, it wasn't difficult to do. "You keep the house, you'll share joint custody of Ciara, you each retain your individual assets, and all jointly owned assets, save the house, will be split 50/50. Is that right?"

Hope studied the list for a few moments, nodding her head slowly as she read. "Yes," she said as she passed the list back to Justin. "I'm in full agreement with everything here."

"Okay, then," Justin said, stretching his hand over hers once more to give it a brief squeeze. "I'll have the papers drawn up this afternoon. Maybe you'd like to come by my office this evening and sign them?" He prayed that he didn't sound too eager, but the truth was, he'd been carrying a torch for Hope for longer than he'd care to admit.

Hope responded in the affirmative, gifting Justin with a brilliant smile. "Wait, if Bo and I were to sign the papers tonight, would you be able to file them in the morning?"

"Actually, my assistant can file the papers electronically as soon as you've signed them," Justin explained. "The county's new online filing system works wonders. You'll still have to wait thirty days for a judge to approve the divorce, but with a situation as straight-forward as yours, I can guarantee that once those thirty days have passed, you'll be free to begin your new life."

Hope took her water glass and lifted it towards Justin. They weren't exactly drinking champagne, but iced tea and water would have to suffice. "To new lives, then, and new beginnings."

Justin smiled and clinked his glass against Hope's. "I'll drink to that." They held one another's gaze until Hope gave him that smile again. By the time lunch was finished, and Hope had gone back to the station, Justin made his way back to his office, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself thinking seriously about his own life. Perhaps it was time for him to make some changes, too.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

 _June 6, 2011_

"Okay, Dad, that's the last of it!" Ciara called as she stepped off the pier and onto the deck of her father's new boat. "Now, can we _please_ go?" With her hand on her hip and her white sunglasses covering half her face, _a la_ Audrey Hepburn, Ciara looked every inch the budding young woman she was and nothing like the little girl that Bo would sometimes like her to remain.

Not bothering to resist the urge to hug his baby girl, Bo dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "Yes, my darling daughter, we can go now." Ciara burst into a brilliant smile not unlike her mother's and looped her arm through her father's.

"All right, then, let's go sailing!"

"This is gonna be great, kid," Bo promised. He was barely able to contain his own excitement. Instructing Ciara to cast off the bow line first and then the stern, Bo expertly guided the boat out of the harbor and into the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Two days before, Bo and Ciara had flown from Salem to Destin, Florida. It was there that Bo's new boat, the _North Star_ , was waiting for him. He'd had it built to his specifications, and upon his first tour of her in dry dock, Bo had fallen head over heels. The _North Star_ was everything he'd ever hoped for, and the elation of sailing the open waters once more was eclipsed only by what, or rather, whom, Bo hoped to find at the end of his journey.

The last few months had flown by. His divorce to Hope had been finalized in record time. Ciara had taken the news in stride; she'd already known her parents were far better off as friends than spouses, and her mood had improved drastically. Shawn Douglas had reacted in much the same way when they'd broken the news to him. The only real backlash they'd experienced had come in the form of Bo's mother and his sister. Caroline Brady had tried everything in her maternal arsenal, from anger to guilt, to convince Bo to see the error of his ways and reconcile with Hope. Kayla, who had, in Bo's opinion, spent far too much time meddling in her little brother's love life, hadn't been much better. If it weren't for Steve intervening on his behalf, Bo suspected that Kayla would have figured out a way to hijack the trip that he and Ciara had planned.

Perhaps the most surprising support, though, had come from Victor. A week before Bo and Ciara were scheduled to leave Salem, Victor had invited them both to dinner. Bo had only gone because of Ciara; his daughter truly loved her grandfather, and Bo had to admit that she brought out the best in the old man. Maggie Horton, a now-constant fixture in Victor's life, had joined them, and Bo had to admit, that she, like Ciara, rounded out most of Victor's edges until he seemed almost human. After they'd eaten desert, Victor had surprised Ciara with a gift.

"I took the liberty of opening an account for you at _Elle,_ my dear. Your Aunt Maggie tells me it's your favorite boutique, and I want you to purchase whatever you'd like for your upcoming trip with your father."

Ciara had expressed her delight over her grandfather's generosity by squealing at the top of her lungs and jumping into his arms. Pleased with himself, Victor had held his youngest grandchild to him, and Bo remembered how amazed he'd been to see a gleam of moisture in his father's eyes. Then, Maggie had taken over Ciara, guiding her into the sitting room and leaving Bo alone with his father.

Victor had poured out two whiskeys and passed one of the tumblers to Bo, who accepted. " _Stinygiasou."_

Bo had raised his glass and responded in kind. They'd resumed their seats at the dining table, and Bo had prepared himself for some sort of misguided lecture from Victor. Once Victor had begun to speak, however, Bo had realized that he couldn't have been further off the mark with his suspicions if he'd tried.

Taking another sip of his whiskey, Victor had leveled his gaze at Bo, and for probably one of only a handful of times, the old man had spoken from his heart. "I understand that the final destination of your trip with Ciara is Los Angeles." When Bo had only nodded, Victor had continued. "I suppose you are aware, then, that Carly and Melanie have both settled there."

Bo had reached for the decanter to pour out another drink, choosing his words carefully. "Kim told me, the last time that I spoke to her," Bo had replied.

Victor had nodded thoughtfully. "I trust you're making plans to see Carly once you arrive?"

His patience had begun to wear thin, and Bo had exhaled slowly through his nose. "Look, Victor," he'd told his father at last. "If this is some misguided attempt to reunite me with Hope and steer me away from Carly, you may as well save your breath. Hope and I are done, and after the way that everybody in this goddamned town treated her – you, included – Carly won't give me the time of day."

"Bo, please, you misunderstand my intentions," Victor had assured him, raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "I only brought up Carly because I want you to be happy. You're my son, and I love you, whether you wish to acknowledge those facts."

A rueful smile had appeared on Bo's face and he'd scoffed at Victor's words. "You might want the best for me, _Dad,_ but you hate Carly with an almighty passion. You made that perfectly clear when you faked your death and had her framed for your murder, and again, when you collaborated with Vivian Alamain to try and run Carly out of town after she had come to me for help, in fear for her life. Now, thanks to you and all my other 'helpful' family members, Carly left me, and Hope and I almost destroyed our daughter, trying to live out the lie that everyone in Salem was content to let us play out!"

Victor, in a shocking turn of events, had not risen to Bo's attack. Instead, he'd slid both his tumbler and the decanter off to the side and had leant closer to his son. "Bo, I'm truly sorry for the part I played in destroying your relationship with Carly."

The sincerity behind his father's words had sent Bo reaching for the decanter once more. "Gee, thanks, Victor, but I'm afraid you're a little too late. Besides, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

"Once again, Son, you'd be correct. I have, in fact, corresponded with Carly. I sought her forgiveness, and she has granted it."

"You've spoken to Carly." Bo hadn't been able to keep the incredulity from his voice. When Victor had nodded, Bo had shoved away from the table, his anger pouring forth. "She won't take my calls, won't answer my texts or my emails, but she talked to you! Unbelievable."

"Bo, please, sit down," Victor had begged, and for lack of anything better to do, Bo had collapsed into his chair once more. Victor had then retrieved an envelope from his desk in the corner and had presented it to Bo. His son had recognized the elegant script on the front of the envelope, and the return address had come from Ronald Regan UCLA Medical Center. "Go ahead, read it," Victor had encouraged him.

Bo, unable to resist, had extracted the letter from its casing. He still recalled every word clearly.

 _Dear Victor,_

 _Good God, even though I've just written those words, I can scarce believe it. To say your letter and its subsequent apology took me by surprise would quite possibly be the understatement of the century. My initial thought upon receiving your correspondence is that you must be dying. I can't imagine any other scenario in which you would offer me an olive branch. If that is indeed the case, let me assure you that you may crossover into whatever afterlife awaits you, absolved of everything that you've ever done to me._

 _Frankly, I have neither the time nor the inclination to go on hating you. I trust, however, that you will also reach out to your son and beg his forgiveness. I can understand your need to destroy me, the woman who slighted your affections, and I can and have forgiven you for it. But I will never understand how, in your thirst for retribution, you were willing to murder your own son. For that sin, I cannot offer absolution; only Bo can assuage your guilt. I've begun a new life with both of my children, and I find myself at peace with my circumstances for the first time in many years. I wish you the same, but you must make things right with Bo for that to happen._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Carly_

 _P.S. If you are actually dying, please understand that I won't be able to attend your funeral. Even if I am the first ex-Mrs. Victor Kiriakis, I think it would be in poor taste for me to attend, don't you agree?_

Bo hadn't been able to stop himself from laughing once he'd read the letter. Every word of it was his Princess, through and through. He'd sobered quickly once he remembered that Carly was no longer his Princess. He'd returned the letter to its envelope and handed it back to his father.

"Why'd you show me that?" He'd asked his father. "And I still don't get why you're suddenly Carly's number one fan, unless, oh, Christ, Victor, have you lost your mind? Please tell me you're not stupid enough to try and make a play for Carly again?" The mere notion had nauseated Bo, but he'd learned to never underestimate his father. Victor had rushed to dissuade him.

"Bo, I assure you, I have no such intention." Then his gaze had strayed to the glass doors leading onto the patio, where Bo could see that Maggie and Ciara had wandered into the lamplight illuminating the entrance to the gardens. The expression on his father's face when his eyes lit upon Maggie Horton was one of gratitude and wonder; it was that of a man deeply in love. As though she'd sensed that she was being watched, Maggie had glanced briefly into the dining room and had gifted Victor with a beautiful smile. Returning the gesture, Victor had turned back to Bo.

"As Carly states in her letter, Bo, she's found peace. I find myself in a similar circumstance. Maggie Horton has given me a new perspective, if you will, and for possibly the first time in my life, I have learned to love someone without seeking control of them. Maggie's love has taught me about forgiveness, and that is why I reached out to Carly. It's also part of why I wished to see you tonight. I want to ask for your forgiveness, Son. I was wrong to have stood between you and Carly all those years ago, and I'm even more ashamed of my more recent actions. I was blinded by jealousy, and I would have stopped at nothing…" Victor, overcome with remorse, had stopped, then, trying to regain control over his emotions. He'd looked at Bo, finally, and Bo had realized in that split second, that he was having the most honest conversation with his biological father in their entire convoluted relationship. "Carly is right, Son. I was willing to murder you for taking away the woman I wanted. Of all my sins, this is the worst, and though I have no right to expect it, I am asking you to forgive me."

Bo had sat, shell shocked, for several moments while he pondered all that his father had told him. Needing a few moments to think, he'd risen from the table and walked into the foyer. The fact that Victor hadn't followed him had spoken volumes to the old man's intent, and it was in that foyer that the words of Shawn Brady, his pop, had come back to him in the Irishman's brogue that had been the cornerstone of his childhood.

 _"Do the right thing, Son. No matter the circumstances, do the right thing, and you'll always be the better man."_

He'd known, then, what he had to do and had walked back to the dining room, where Victor still sat, hands folded in his lap and staring at the empty chair that Bo had vacated. Walking up to his father, Bo had extended his right hand. Victor had stood, then, and slowly placed his hand in Bo's.

Now, as Bo guided the _North Star_ southwest across the glistening waters of the Gulf of Mexico, he understood that night and its revelations had been a turning point in his and Victor's relationship. While they would probably never share the closeness that Bo had experienced with Shawn Brady, some of the rifts between himself and his biological father had been bridged. He could only pray that he'd have the same kind of luck with Carly. Just then, Ciara came bounding up the stairs that led to the ship's cabin rooms, effectively drawing Bo out of his memories.

"Hey, Dad, what's this?" Reaching him, she handed him a photograph. "This is you and Carly, isn't it?"

Bo nodded. "It is. This was taken a long time ago, at a place called _El Castillo_." He smiled, remembering how John, Isabella, Roman and Marlena had been waiting on them when they descended the Mayan pyramid, having exchanged their wedding vows. He briefly outlined the ceremony to Ciara, who listened with rapt attention to her father's story. "Your Aunt Marlena took that photo," he finished and handed it back to Ciara.

She studied it closely before giving her dad a shy smile. "You guys look really happy," she mused.

"We were, Little One. Once upon a time, Carly and I were very happy together."

"I'm sorry that things didn't work out for the two of you, Daddy," she said sincerely. "But that's part of what this trip is about, isn't it? I mean, I know it's a chance for you and I to spend some time together, but now that you and Mom have finally split up, aren't you going to try and get Carly to take you back?"

Bo, not the least bit surprised that his kid was onto him, chuckled at her forthrightness. "I'm gonna give it my best shot, honey, but I'm afraid I've got my work cut out for me."

Ciara was quiet for a moment, thoughtfully tapping the photograph of her father and Carly against her chin. A sunny smile slowly bloomed on her face, and she turned her gaze out over the horizon before looking back at her father. "Well, you aren't in this alone, Dad. I was awful to Carly, to both of you, really, and I'm going to do my dead level best to help you fix this."

Pulling Ciara into a one-armed hug, Bo thank her for the sentiment, but he cautioned her not to get her hopes up. Pushing her sunglasses up onto head so that eye roll would all the more effective, she fixed her father with her best teenage smirk. "Daddy, are you still in love with Carly?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean she's still in love with me, Little One."

"Honestly, Daddy, sometimes I'm not sure how you got to be Police Commissioner. _Of course_ , she's still in love with you! Why else would she have left town so fast?"

Bo scoffed at his daughter's enthusiasm. "Hmm, lets see, could it be because everybody in town treated her like crap?"

Ciara waived away his concern. "I'm sure that had something to do with it, but I think the kicker is that everyone was always saying that you belonged with Mom, even the people who Carly thought were her friends. So to protect herself, she kicked you to the curb and split town."

"And, uh, just where did you come by all of this insight?" He asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Dad, please, I'm not some naïve little kid. I've got eyes, not to mention ears. People talk, especially when they think no one's listening. And no, before you break out a lecture, I didn't hear what I heard because I was eavesdropping. Is it my fault that the people in Salem like to talk extremely loud about things they've really got no business discussing?" Her cheeky finish had its intended effect – drawing a laugh from her father.

"You're too much, Little One, you know it?"

She only shrugged before handing the photo to her father. "Have we got time to take a quick side trip, Daddy?"

"That depends on where you want to go," he answered. When she reached out to the photo in his hand and tapped it, he understood at once her intended destination. "You want to go to _Chitzen Itza_?"

"Yep," she responded, popping the _P_ for emphasis. "I want you to take me there and tell me the story of your relationship with Carly. I want to get to know the woman you're in love with," she added sweetly, and Bo's heart tripped at the amazing young woman his baby girl was turning into.

"Okay, then what?"

"Then, I'm going to help you devise a plan to sweep Carly off her feet and back into your arms."

As Bo set a course for Cancun, he couldn't help but think that his sassy, brilliant daughter just might be the one to help him win back Carly, once and for all.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

He saw her from across the crowded room. Standing in an alcove near the balcony, martini in hand, she was holding court with four men and a couple of women, one of whom he recognized as Kimberly Brady Donovan, the hospital's administrator, and they were all hanging on Carly Manning's every word. Selecting a glass of wine from a passing server, he slowly approached the group from the left; he didn't want her to see him until the last possible second. Per his agreement with Kim, Carly had been kept completely in the dark as to his arrival.

Though the room was filled to capacity with hundreds of other occupants, he had no trouble picking out the distinct sounds of Carly's voice, especially when she threw back her head and laughed at a remark made by one of her companions. Drawing closer, his smile only broadened as he was at last able to hear the story she was recounting.

"So there we are, all standing around the patient who is face down on the table. I'd removed the appendix the day before, and I'd told the damn orthopedic surgeon, Joel Crain, that he needed to wait 48 hours before performing the bone graft of the damaged vertebrae. He refused to listen, and when he flipped the patient on his stomach, he ruptured my sutures, and the guy was practically bleeding out on the OR floor. I was on my way out the door to a party when they paged me. Crain had already opened up the guy's back, and I was afraid rotating the patient would only make it worse."

"What'd you do, Manning?" the man standing at Carly's right asked, and Carly rolled her eyes as though it should be perfectly obvious.

"I did the only thing I could have done, Mac," she answered with what he had always privately considered her trademark grin. "I scrubbed in, had the others slide the patient far enough off the table that I could reach the surgical site, got down on the floor in my cocktail dress and heels and stitched my patient's abdomen back together." The end of her story garnered laughter from all around, and he decided it was the perfect time to step in.

"And you did a damned fine job of it, if I do say so myself."

At the sound of that voice, _his_ voice, the one she hadn't heard in far too long, Carly spun around, her eyes widening in shock before beaming in pure delight. "Marcus Hunter!" she exclaimed thrusting her martini at Kim and jumping into Marcus's open arms. Laughing, her feet left the floor as he spun her once before bringing her back to her original position. He set her down, but kept his arms tightly around her. She stared up at him in wonder for a few moments before fixing him with a more quizzical expression. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"He's my surprise," Kimberly explained to the group at large. "Say hello to our new Chief of Surgery, Dr. Marcus Hunter. Everyone, this is Marcus," she waived her hand to indicate the group as a whole. "Marcus, this is everyone. Carly will make sure you're all properly introduced, I'm sure."

"You bet I will," Carly said as she leaned into Kim. "And you and I will have a talk later about keeping secrets. I thought we said we weren't going to do that anymore."

The redhead only shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't mind a surprise, in this instance."

Carly retrieved her forgotten drink and took a sip. "Oh, you're right, I'm too happy to be pissed off right now."

Marcus pressed a kiss to her hair and mumbled, "Thank the good lord for that."

"Hey, you big jerk," Carly swatted his chest playfully and Marcus's laugh only deepened. Looking up, she smiled at her old friend, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. "I'm really, really glad you're here," she whispered. Knowing that she'd open up to him once they were alone, he nodded.

"Me, too, Manning, me, too." He winked at her then, effectively restoring her happy mood, and gave his attention to the other people gathered around them. His left arm still anchored around Carly's waist, he extended his right hand to the man he'd heard her address as Mac. "Marcus Hunter; pleased to meet you."

"Alec MacLeod, Cardiology, but nearly everyone calls me Mac." Mac was tall and broad shouldered, and he had closely cropped, steely hair with piercing blue eyes which Marcus didn't fail to notice strayed tellingly to Carly more than once. Adding that to his ever-growing list of tales to get out of his friend later, Marcus decided to put his observations on hold.

One by one, each of the others introduced themselves.

"Haseeb Nassar, Neurology," said a handsome, middle-aged man with a head full of thick, black hair. "Welcome to our slightly odd little family," he smiled warmly. "Though if you're friends with our Carly, here, I expect you already know what you're getting into.."

"Causes a lot of trouble, doesn't she?" Marcus replied with a conspiratorial chuckle.

"Excuse me, but I'm standing right here, ya know," Carly grumbled.

"Relax, baby girl, you know how much I love your particular brand of trouble," Marcus assured her.

"Michael Carter, Obstetrics," spoke an extremely tall man that Marcus guessed was in his early thirties. "This is my husband, Richard." He indicated the smaller man next to him who also shook Marcus's hand. "His firm represents the hospital's legal matters."

"Please, don't hold it against me," Richard kidded.

"I'm always happy to meet a good lawyer,"Marcus responded. "Especially if they're on my side."

At last, he turned to the tall, curvy blonde who stood next to Richard, a welcoming smile decorating her face and one hand cocked on her hip. Her hair fell in unruly waves down her back, and she regarded Marcus with twinkling brown eyes that reminded him of very fine whisky.

"Now, Carly, darlin'," she spoke with a thick accent straight out of New Orleans. "Where have you been keeping this one, and why on earth haven't you shared him with me? Regina Robicheaux, Psychiatry, and I am extremely pleased to make your acquaintance," she finished with a sultry smile, her fingers trailing delicately across his skin as she released his hand.

"You'll have to forgive me, GiGi," Carly grinned as she slipped both her arms around Marcus's middle. "But I haven't laid eyes on this man in twenty years, and he and I have a lot to catch up on."

GiGi sighed before canting her head to the side and nibbling on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Okay, CiCi, I'll give you tonight with your yummy friend, but tomorrow night, he's all mine," she purred, running a hand lightly across the alabaster skin of her very impressive décolletage.

Marcus's eyes followed the path of Regina's hand, and his mouth blossomed into an easy grin. "Oh, I think I'm gonna really like Los Angeles."

They all laughed at that, Carly especially, before she turned to Kim. The redhead looked quite pleased with herself, and Carly let go of Marcus so that she could whisper lowly to her erstwhile sister-in-law. "Thank you for this."

Kim took Carly's hands in hers, smiling warmly. "You're more than welcome," she began. "But, boy, am I glad the cat's outta the bag! It's been torture keeping quiet about it. You have no idea how many times I almost blurted it out. I've just about driven Shane crazy."

"Well, as secrets go, this is one I definitely don't mind," Carly replied. She glanced over shoulder at Marcus, who was conversing with Regina and Richard. "How'd you manage to snag him, anyway?"

Something, a shadow almost, flickered in Kim's blue eyes before she responded, "I'll let him give you the details, but I will say that, like you, he was ready for a change."

Carly cleared her throat, not wanting to get into yet another discussion about what, or rather, whom, had sent her running to Los Angeles. "Yes, well, maybe I should go defend Marcus's virtue for the evening if I've got any hope of catching up with my old friend," she offered Kim a sardonic grin.

Kim looked askance at Regina, who was practically wrapped around Marcus, not that he appeared to mind. "Yeah, you should at least give him 24 hours before we let GiGi have him." Carly giggled, polishing off the rest of her martini before intervening between Regina and Marcus. She stepped between her two friends and slid an arm around Regina's waist.

"GiGi, honey, would you mind terribly if Marcus and I leave now?"

"But CiCi," Regina pouted, leaning her head against Carly's. "Do you have to take him away _now?_ Marcus and I were just getting to know one another, weren't we, _cher_?"

"I'm afraid so," Carly responded, casting a cheeky grin at Marcus. "You did promise that I could have him tonight." The two women exchanged a look that Marcus couldn't even begin to interpret before turning as one to look at him. Under the combined weight of their stares – Regina's positively feral and Carly's, playful – Marcus's heart skipped a beat.

"Ladies, please," he joked. "Do I get a say in this?"

The women shared another look before shaking their heads. " Of course not, Marcus," Carly explained through her laughter.

"Where's the fun in that, darlin'?" Regina asked. "Now, you run along tonight and get reacquainted with CiCi. Carly, take it easy on him, will ya? Don't keep him up too late!"

"Don't worry, I promise to return him in pretty much the same condition that I found him," Carly assured her friend even as she stepped into Marcus's embrace, his arm settling over her shoulders.

"Make my goodbyes to the others?" Carly asked as she and Marcus were moving away. Regina gave the pair a brilliant smile and an affirmative nod.

As they left the ballroom and stepped out into the hallway, Marcus glanced down at Carly. "So what have you been up to all these years, Manning? Because the last thing I expected to learn from Kim was that you were living in L.A. with a daughter who isn't Bo Brady's." He fixed her with a stare, the same one he'd always given her whenever he'd suspected that she was holding something back from him.

Carly held his gaze momentarily before closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them, Marcus wasn't surprised to see tears reflected in the emerald orbs. Taking his hand, she began tugging him towards the elevators that led to the employee parking garage. "Do you have a place to stay yet?" She asked.

"Not yet," he answered. "I didn't want to rent a place sight unseen so I figured I'd just get a hotel room for a few weeks."

"Nope, come on, you're gonna stay with Mel and me. Melanie is my daughter," Carly offered as they stepped into the car. When she didn't let go of his hand, Marcus pulled her back into his embrace, resting his head on top of hers. She breathed in the comforting scent of him, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear calming her suddenly anxious nerves. "I've got a long story to tell you." She spoke softly, but as close as they were, Marcus understood her perfectly.

"S'okay, baby girl, we've got all the time in the world," he assured her. Then he laughed a little. "Well, at least until you have to turn me over to your friend. What exactly was that back there, anyway?"

Carly smiled broadly and pulled away to peer up at Marcus. "GiGi? Oh, she's harmless…most of the time. But don't worry, if you get in over your head, I'll be there to pull you to safety."

A starry-eyed expression crossed his face before he said, "Well, I wouldn't mind going under a time or two before you drag my sorry ass back to shore." Merriment twinkled in his warm, brown eyes, and she threw back her head, cackling. It was that deep, robust laugh of hers that Marcus had always adored, and it made him happy to know he could still get it out of her. "You two seem really close," he remarked, and she nodded immediately.

"GiGi's been a godsend. I was kind of a mess when Mel and I first got here. We'd both been through the ringer, and though Kim had been more than welcoming when she and I had spoken initially about coming to work here, I still wasn't sure what to expect. GiGi was the first staff member that Kim introduced me to, and we just clicked. She's the Glinda to my Elphaba."

At Marcus's confused expression, Carly asked, "I take it you haven't seen _Wicked_?" He shook his head in the negative, and the gleam in her green eyes made him a little nervous. "It's okay, honey, we'll begin your Broadway education soon. You'll need it to keep up with GiGi."

"We'll get to GiGi and Broadway later, Manning," Marcus said as the elevator came to a stop. He followed Carly into the garage, where, after a short walk, she stopped in front of a fully restored, silver 1965 Ford Mustang convertible.

At the positively lustful expression on her friend's face, Carly asked, "You like?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do," he murmured, fingers stroking the supple leather of the driver's seat. It was deep gray and as soft as butter.

"Good, you're driving, then. Four martinis is my limit." She tossed the keys at Marcus and opened the passenger door, dropping into the seat. Marcus, needing no further encouragement, slid behind the wheel. When the engine turned over, rumbling in the way only a Mustang could, Marcus wrapped his hand around the gear shift and quickly navigated out of Carly's parking space. Casting a glance at his friend, he told her he needed to drop by his hotel to get his luggage.

"Then you and I have an appointment with a bottle of wine and a long-overdue chat, little lady."

"It won't be a very pleasant conversation, Marcus," she warned, giving Marcus another glimpse at the undercurrent of sadness buried beneath his friend's effervescent personality – sadness that he suspected rivaled his own grief.

"Whatever it is, Carly, we'll get through it together."

The strength behind his words buoyed her spirits, and she gave him a watery smile. "In that case, lets go get your stuff out of your hotel, and then lets go home."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

"I can't wait for you to meet Melanie," Carly gushed as she unlocked her front door. Marcus followed her with one of his bags, having decided he could leave the others in Carly's car until the next day. Dropping her purse and keys on a small table in the foyer, she kicked off her heels and groaned at the sensation of her bare feet on the cool, ceramic tile.

"Should I leave you alone with the floor, Manning?" Marcus asked mockingly as he shut the door behind him.

The effect of the glare she tossed him over her shoulder was lessened by the tiny smirk of her mouth. "For that, I'll expect a foot massage later."

"Your wish is my command," he promised. "Just show me where I can drop this bag first, will ya?"

In response, she headed down the hallway just off the foyer, beckoning him after her with nothing more than a wiggle of her fingers. She stopped at a door on the left and flipped a switch just inside the doorway. "Mel and I have the bedrooms upstairs. This is Nicky's room, but he won't be back in town for at least a month. The bathroom is through there," she indicated a darkened doorway next to the closed doors of the closet. "Mel and I use the room next door as our office space, and there's plenty of room for you to set up your laptop there, too."

Marcus looked around the tastefully furnished and spacious bedroom. "I have to admit, this is a whole lot nicer than my room at the Hyatt," he told her. "You might not ever get rid of me."

Carly beamed at him in response. "Nothing would make me happier. God, I've missed you, Marcus," she said, and for a moment, Marcus was sure she was going to cry. Then, she shook her head quickly and took a step back. "I'm going to run upstairs and change, give you a few minutes to settle in, okay?"

Marcus, sensing that Carly needed a chance to get her bearings, nodded. "You know where to find me when you're ready."

Flashing him one last grateful smile, Carly disappeared from his view, heading up the stairs to her own bedroom. Once inside, she tugged down the side zipper of her black cocktail dress and yanked it over her head, laying it out across the overstuffed chair in the corner. Exchanging her strapless bra for a regular one, she donned a pair of gray lounge pants and a mint green tank top. Entering her bathroom, she went to the sink and turned on the faucet. When her face was scrubbed clean of the evening's make-up, she went back downstairs and into the kitchen. Marcus, having changed into sweatpants and a Northwestern t-shirt, met her there. She offered him a glass of red wine, and he spent a long moment scrutinizing her face before he reached across her and grabbed the bottle. She didn't protest, only took her glass and led the way into the living room. Together, they sat down on the couch, and Carly angled her body towards Marcus, tucking her feet under her. She took a few sips of wine before placing her glass on the coffee table. Her movements drew Marcus's attention to a framed photograph on the table, and he picked it up and perused it. Then, he turned it to face Carly.

"I've got a feeling that a lot of what you're going to tell me isn't going to be easy," he said gently. "But this picture looks like it was a happy moment, so why don't you start there."

Carly, a far-away look in her eyes, reached out and touched the frame's glass briefly. "Okay," she said at last. "I can do that. This was taken the afternoon that I bought this house. Kim took it for us, right out there on the beach." She tipped her head towards the glass doors that led out to a darkened patio. "Six months ago, just before Christmas, I decided that I had to get out of Salem, for good. Nicky and I had finally mended our relationship, and Melanie, well, she and I had grown incredibly close; so close, in fact, that when I told her I was thinking about leaving town, she decided to come with me. Nicky came and got us both, and we spent Christmas with him at my house in London."

"So how did you and Melanie end up here, in L.A.?" Marcus asked. He wanted to ask a dozen other questions, too, such as why Carly had been estranged from her children in the first place, but he held his tongue, knowing his friend would tell him all of it in her own time.

"I took a chance," Carly answered simply. "Did you know about Kim's cancer?" When Marcus nodded, Carly continued. "Bo was the one who donated bone marrow for her treatment, and while he was out here with her, she and I became reacquainted, over the phone, at least. Anyway, I called her from London just after Christmas and asked if she had any openings at the hospital. I didn't really expect anything to come from the call, but the next thing I knew, Nicky had bundled the three of us onto the jet, and we flew here on New Year's Day. Two days later, Mel and I were gainfully employed at the hospital. I bought this place about a week later, and Kim took this photo of the kids and me as a housewarming gift." She was smiling when she finished, and that made Marcus happy that he'd gotten her to lead with a pleasant memory. He looked at his friend's grown children in the picture. Nicky was a perfect blend of Carly and Lawrence Alamain, though he had his mother's eyes. The girl, though, Melanie, she was Carly made over, and Marcus couldn't help but point out the similarities.

"It's funny because for a long time, she kept her hair colored blonde. I did, too, for a while, but not long after we moved here, we both decided to go back to being brunettes."

"Oh, man," Marcus chuckled. "I'm trying to picture you as a blonde, Manning, and I gotta be honest, I don't think it's working for me!"

She retaliated by sticking out her tongue at him which only made him laugh deeper. He put the picture back in its place on the coffee table before scooting closer to her. He took her hand and laced their fingers together. She watched their joined hands, still a little surprised that he was back in her life, and despite the intervening years, their friendship was as easy and close as if they'd never been apart. When she shared her thoughts, he wholeheartedly agreed.

"That's because we're special, Carly," he said. "It doesn't matter how many years have passed. I've always carried our friendship in my heart." And he had, especially the last several months. When his own life had been turned upside down, he'd found himself thinking about his old friend, Carly. More than once, in his darkest times, he would've sworn that he'd heard her voice in his head, telling him to get up and pull himself together, to stop wallowing in self-pity and start living his life again.

"Me, too, Marcus." She squeezed his hand, knowing instinctively by the ghosts in his warm, brown eyes that her friend had been through some very rough times. _"I will say that, like you, he was ready for a change."_ Kim's comments flashed in Carly's memory. It seemed that she and Marcus were both trying to outrun demons, and Carly hoped that as she'd finally begun to heal, she'd be able to help him, too.

"All right, now, enough stalling." His gentle chiding was followed by a slight tug on their joined hands, and Carly went willingly into the safe embrace of his arms. His right arm settled over her shoulders, and with it, a strong sense of peace filled Carly's soul. "Talk to me."

And just like that, Carly cleared her throat and began to speak on all of things that had happened to her after Marcus had left Salem. She told him about Vivian trying to kill her, how she murdered several of Carly's patients and then tried to frame Carly for the murders, but not before making it look as though Carly had committed suicide. She didn't cry when she told him about coming to inside that godforsaken coffin, buried in the earth, with nothing but the ravings of a madwoman for company, but she did tremble so much that he stopped her only long enough to grab a throw from the love seat and wrap her in it before taking her back in his arms.

"It was Lawrence who found me, and I'd gone so long without oxygen that I was unconscious. Lawrence kept me with him, and when I came to a few days later, I thought he was James. I thought we were still in Paris, and I had no memory of the ten years that had passed. Lawrence kept Bo from me; he convinced him that any kind of shock to my system would send me over the edge and that it was best to play along until my memory came back on its own. But my memory did come back, once I saw Nicky. By then, Lawrence had decided to take Nicky back to Alamania, and they asked me to come with them. I wasn't sure what to do; I didn't want to lose the chance to be in Nicky's life. We'd already lost so much time together, and the feelings I'd once had for Lawrence had come back in full force. They were real, but so we're my feelings for Bo." She paused briefly as though gathering her thoughts.

"I went to the boat, and Bo was there. He was so happy to see me, and I, him." She sat up then and the pain in her eyes was evident. "We, uh, we started to celebrate, but, I don't know what the problem was; even after all this time, the only explanation that I can offer is that, in our time apart, Bo and I had changed, somehow. Before I realized it, I had given him back his engagement ring, and I'd gone to the airport. I told Lawrence that I loved him, that I wanted to build my life with him and with Nicholas. But I had no idea, Marcus, I couldn't have known, couldn't have guessed in a million years what would happen." She ducked her head, almost as if in shame.

"Hey, now," he told her, lifting her chin gently. "You don't owe anyone, least of all me, any explanation. It sounds like you followed your heart, Carly. No one can fault you for that." The understanding in his voice was her undoing, and for a moment, she froze, debating whether to tell him about what had happened with Lawrence. _What would Marcus think? Would he think less of her if he knew everything?_ She started to panic; her heart began to race, and her vision dimmed. She could hear Marcus calling her name, but he sounded far away. Gasping for breath, she bolted from the sofa and headed for the patio doors. Wrenching them open, she fled outside, gulping in the cool, night breeze coming off the ocean. Marcus, beyond concerned for Carly, moved slowly to her side. He touched her back lightly; she tensed, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she turned to face him, the tears on her cheeks glistening like diamonds in the starlight.

"You must think I've gone batshit crazy, huh?" The smile she offered him was tiny, but he'd take what he could get. He held out his hand and she took it gratefully.

"You really want to know what I think?" He asked as he led her back inside. She nodded, following him willingly and allowed him to once more wrap her in the discarded blanket. He waited until they were situated on the sofa before he spoke again. "I think that something terrible happened to you, Carly, and I think that you had no choice but to handle it on your own. But whatever it was, it wasn't your fault. I'm not going to make you tell me anything, not if you don't want to, but know this. I'll always be here for you, no matter what, and there isn't a damn thing you could do or say that will make me change my mind."

Carly, overwhelmed by Marcus's faith in her, began to cry in earnest. Knowing instinctively that she needed to have this moment, he just held her, stroking her hair and whispering soothing, nonsensical murmurings in her ear. After a few moments, she began to calm and reached for her wineglass. Tilting her head back, she emptied the glass. He didn't comment, but deciding that if she needed to fortify their conversation with wine, then he might need to follow suit, he drained his glass before refilling them both. Taking her glass from him, she nodded her thanks and began the next half of her story.

"When we left Salem, we flew to Paris. We were married there, just a few days after we arrived. We were happy, you know? I was happy. Lawrence was just…wonderful. He doted on me, Nicky, too. He was the perfect husband and father. We spent a few weeks in Paris before we decided to go to Italy. I've always loved Tuscany, and we'd found a marvelous tutor for Nicky. He was able to continue his studies, and Lawrence and I were able to enjoy our honeymoon. Things were storybook perfect. I had the world at my feet." She paused to take a sip of her wine. "You know the worst part of having the world at your feet, Marcus?"

"Well, in my somewhat limited experience," he commented. "That's usually when something comes along and rips the world right out from under you."

In solidarity, she clinked her glass against his. "You have no idea how right you are. We'd been in Tuscany for six weeks when Lawrence fell violently ill. I awoke early one morning to find him burning up with a fever. He was out of his mind; he didn't know me or Nicky; he didn't even know his own name. By the time we got him to the hospital, his heart had stopped twice. The pressure in his brain was building from the fever, and with no other options, the doctors medically induced a coma. He lingered for weeks, between life and death, and I thought for sure that I was going to lose him. But he pulled through. Somehow, despite the odds, his body began to fight the virus. There was still the chance of brain damage; when we began to pull him from the coma, I prepared myself for the worst. But when he woke up, there were no signs of permanent damage. He was weak; we spent another month in the hospital in Tuscany where he endured rehab before his doctors agreed that he was well enough to go home. We flew to Alamania where, physically at least, Lawrence continued to improve." Closing her eyes against the still-painful memories, she drew a shuddering breath.

"But something was very, very wrong with my husband, Marcus," Carly said darkly. "Little by little, he went slowly out of his mind. He grew paranoid, and he reduced his circle of advisors to only a handful of ruthless men, and of course, his beloved Aunt Vivian." She ground out the woman's name as though it left a bad taste in her mouth. Given what she'd already told him about the old bitch, Marcus figured it probably did. "Lawrence didn't mistreat me, not at first, at least, not directly. He was afraid that the virus he'd contracted in Italy was an assassination attempt, and he feared that someone would try and kill me to exact revenge on him. His solution was to keep a few of his trusted guards with me at all times. Before long, I was a prisoner in my own home. It was terrible, not having any freedom, but it was bearable because at least Nicky was with me. I was finally able to be a mother to my son, Marcus," she told him with a genuine smile, but it was gone far too quickly for Marcus's liking.

"I always knew you'd be an incredible mother, Carly," he told her honestly. The way that she'd first bonded with Shawn Douglas Brady when she first came to Salem had told Marcus all he needed to know about Carly Manning.

"I told myself that I could endure anything for the sake of my son. As long as Nicholas was happy and thriving, then I could put up with anything. But Lawrence continued to decline mentally, and once he learned about what had happened in Tuscany during his hospitalization, he…he just…turned on me," she said at last. Her gaze was fixated on a point off in the distance, and Marcus figured that wherever she was, it was a dark and lonely place.

"What do you mean, Carly? What happened while Lawrence was hospitalized?" He asked delicately.

"I stayed around the clock at the hospital in Tuscany. My god, I was so beside myself with worry that I called Vivian, of all people, to come and stay with Nicky, if that gives you any indication as to my emotional state at the time," she told him with a bitter laugh. "On the third day of Lawrence's illness, I was awakened by terrible cramps. I tried to stand, but my knees were too weak, and I fell to the floor, crying out. One of the nurses heard me and came rushing in the room. I was lying in a pool of blood, Marcus, and the pain was so intense that I thought for a few moments I might die from it. The nurse called for help, and I was sent for an ultrasound. I was pregnant; can you believe it?"

Marcus was indeed surprised; of all the scenarios that he could have imagined, that one hadn't even been on his radar. He'd seen her medical records firsthand; the odds of her even conceiving after all the damage that her first pregnancy had done to her body had been slim. His gaze darted to the picture on the table, of Carly with her two children. The smiling face of Melanie was a powerful reminder that _slim_ and _zero_ were a long way apart. Turning his attention back to Carly, then, he reached out and tenderly stroked her cheek. "What happened next, baby girl?" He could certainly guess what happened, but he needed to hear it from her.

"The baby had no heartbeat on the ultrasound, but the blood was coming from scar tissue that had ruptured from the stress of the placenta forming. The surgeon told me later that they estimated I was around seven weeks pregnant. He wanted to perform a hysterectomy at first because I was bleeding so much, but Vivian wouldn't hear of it. She knew how much children meant to Lawrence, and she forced the surgeon to agree to a D & C. She didn't really give a damn whether I bled to death or not, but in the end, I suppose that I have to be thankful for her intervention. It's a little ironic, all things considered, that a woman who devoted the better part of twenty years trying to destroy me is also the one person who ensured that barely a year after my miscarriage, I'd be giving birth to my little girl." Another pause and another sip of wine. "After Lawrence woke up, Vivian encouraged me not to tell him what had happened. She thought it would be too much, especially because we'd learned that the virus had left him sterile.

"I should have known better than to trust Vivian Alamain, though, because once it became clear that Lawrence was growing displeased with me, Vivian 'accidentally' let it slip about my miscarriage. Of course, Lawrence was incensed, and because of his mental degeneration, he convinced himself that I'd lied to Vivian about the miscarriage and had undergone an abortion instead, all because I was upset that the baby was Lawrence's and not Bo's. Oh, my god, he was so angry, Marcus. We fought with each other for hours, screaming at one another until we were both hoarse. I begged him to listen to me, to check the hospital's records, but he wouldn't relent. He called for his guards and had them take me back to my rooms. He kept me locked away for a week. He wouldn't allow me to see Nicky. The servants brought meals to me, but they wouldn't give me any news. They were terrified to speak with me, afraid of Lawrence's recriminations.

"At the end of the week, Lawrence came to me. He told me that he'd enrolled Nicky in school in London at Eton. I wasn't allowed to contact him. I argued that he wasn't old enough, I mean, Jesus, Marcus, Eton doesn't even accept boys younger than 13! But Lawrence only laughed and told me that with the right name and the right price, he could have anything he wanted. That was a lesson he taught me well over the years, because what Lawrence wanted, more than anything, was to make me pay for all the sins that I'd committed against him. He cut me out of my son's life, and for years, my child grew up thinking that his mother hated him, all because he was Lawrence's son and not Bo's. I kept screaming at Lawrence, but he…he hit me. He knocked me damn near across the room, and I hit my head against one of the posts on the bed. When I came to, Lawrence was hovering over me with his personal physician, spinning the man some story about how I had been complaining of dizzy spells and that I'd passed out and hit my head. I tried to tell the truth, but the doctor didn't seem interested in my take on the matter. In fact, he suggested to Lawrence that I might benefit from a good sedative, to calm my – let's see, what did Dr. Farid call it – oh, yeah, my 'irrational imagination.' Lawrence and the doctor left then, but Lawrence came back later. I was already packing a bag, and my passport was in my purse. He took one look at my suitcase, and locked the door. And then he…then he…" She drifted off; Marcus could tell by the look on her face that she was no longer in the living room in a beachfront house in Los Angeles. She was back in that room in Alamania reliving the horrors that Lawrence Alamain had exacted upon her. When she resumed speaking, Marcus was transported right there with her, watching the events unfold as she painted a sickening, twisted scenario with her words.

 _Carly stared, paralyzed by fear, at Lawrence as he slowly advanced upon her. Too late, she tried to dart past him, and his hands gripped her upper arms, shaking her so hard her teeth rattled. Then he spun her around so that her back was against his broad chest, and the two of them were facing the gilded mirror of her dressing table. With one arm wrapped around her stomach, he pushed the hair away from her neck with his free hand. That hand squeezed briefly around the vulnerable column of her throat, and panic flared anew in her eyes._

 _"Katerina, my darling," he cooed into her ear. "Where on earth do you think you're going? You wouldn't leave me, would you, your devoted husband? After all, barely three months ago, you promised to love and honor me, vowing that only death would part us."_

 _"Lawrence, please," she begged, trying to speak over the pounding staccato of her heartbeat rushing in her ears. "Please, listen to me. I swear, everything will be fine if you'll just let me go. Sweetheart, please, I think that you're still sick! The virus, it's, it's done something to you, and you aren't thinking clearly. But if you'll just let me go, then we can figure it out together. We can go back to Tuscany, to the doctors there. Or we'll go to London or even back to the States, please, Lawrence! I know a lot of wonderful doctors, and we'll get you the best there is." She tried in vain to wrest away from his grasp, but he only held her tighter. She watched as he lowered his head, burying his face in the curtain of her hair. It was a move he'd made countless times before, but where it had previously comforted her, had begun to peak her desire for the man she loved, now it nauseated her, and as he raised his eyes to meet hers in the mirror's reflection, she knew without a doubt that Lawrence, the man she loved, her husband, was gone forever. In his place was a monster. The wild terror in her eyes seemed to delight Lawrence for he laughed gleefully before scooping her up in his arms. Self-preservation flooded her system with adrenaline, and Carly kicked and hit and flailed, screaming at the top of her lungs for someone, anyone, to help her. He threw her onto the bed, covering her smaller body with his larger one. Though her movements were restricted, she still struggled against him, to no avail. He tore open her blouse, sending buttons careening in opposite directions, and she grabbed one of his hands, sinking her teeth into his flesh until she drew blood. He howled and backhanded her in retaliation. The copper tang of blood gagged her as it struck the back of her throat, and he hit her again, hard enough that her vision blurred to black. The impact stunned her into silence, and he took the opportunity to yank off his belt and tie her hands roughly to one of the bed's posts. She pulled fitfully against the restraints, crying and pleading with Lawrence to stop, to not hurt her, to just let her go; even as she begged, she knew her cries would go unheeded. Lawrence's only reply was to undo his pants and shove her skirt up around her waist._

"That was the first time my husband raped me," she said quietly, and her tears flowed anew. Marcus, feeling more helpless than he'd ever felt in his life, took the wine glass from her hand and gathered her close in his arms.

There, in the safety of her friend's embrace, Carly finished her story. She told Marcus of how, miraculously only a few months after the physical abuse began, Lawrence had allowed her to attend a medical conference where she'd met a man named Daniel Jonas. She'd slept with Daniel out of loneliness and pain, and months later, after learning she was pregnant, she'd finally thought her miserable existence of solitude and abuse had reached an end. Lawrence, though initially angered by her betrayal, had turned into a model husband, and forgiven her the affair. He'd vowed that they'd raise the child together, as their own, and that no one would ever learn that he was not the biological father.

"He treated me like a queen, Marcus," she explained between sips of her third glass of wine. "He doted on me, indulged my every craving. He lavished me in gifts and jewels. He spent every waking moment with me that he could, and at night, he'd hold me in his arms, talking to our unborn baby, telling her how lucky she was to have such a beautiful, brilliant mother. His only stipulation was that we not tell anyone about the baby until she was born. He was afraid that Nicholas and even Vivian would be too upset if I were to miscarry again. In truth, the pregnancy was high-risk, but my doctor was always close at hand, and I underwent frequent ultrasounds to make sure that everything was stable. Lawrence sent Vivian to Paris, using the excuse that he needed her to manage his affairs there, and of course, with Nicky at school in England, he was none the wiser. Keeping the baby a secret, though, meant not telling Frankie, and as I began to show, I had to constantly turn down my brother's requests for a visit."

She stopped and shook her head quickly, inwardly cursing her own stupidity. "They say hindsight is 20/20, but my vision didn't fully clear until after I'd given birth. Lawrence had me flown to a private clinic in Switzerland, where my OB/GYN practiced exclusively. We flew there about a month before my due date, and Lawrence continued to be loving and charming. He seemed so excited about the baby's birth. He had catalog after catalog brought to our villa so that I could choose the things I wanted for the baby. Cribs, clothes, blankets, toys – anything at all that struck my fancy, I only had to point to it, and Lawrence assured me it would be waiting on me when we returned home. But as I lay in my hospital bed, nursing my newborn daughter for the first time, my husband revealed the true depth of his depravity. He told me that I had a choice to make; I could give my daughter away to the couple he had chosen or I could watch as he snuffed the life out of her tiny body.

"I knew he would kill her, too, Marcus. What's worse is that there wasn't a thing I could do about it. He snatched her right out of my arms, and he'd already placed his hand over her little face.

I tried, though, I swear, I tried to reason with him. I promised him I'd leave with her, that he'd never have to see us again, but it was pointless. So I did the only thing I thought I could do at the time – I agreed to his demands and I watched him walk out the door with my baby. I lived in hell for the next twenty years, until one day, Lawrence went so completely out of his mind that he threatened to have my daughter killed. To stop him, to save my little girl, I stabbed him to death in our bedroom, and I'd do the same thing again if it meant saving my child." She pushed away from him then, fiddling with her hands nervously.

"Well, now you know the whole, sordid mess that my life became, Marcus. I murdered my husband, and I'm not the least bit sorry about it."

Marcus took both her hands in his and leaned over, laying a chaste kiss on her forehead. "You did what you had to do, Carly, that's all that matters. You saved yourself and, from the looks of things, _both_ of your kids from a man who would have eventually destroyed them. Don't apologize for protecting those who you love most."

Summoning a tiny smile for him, Carly nodded her head slowly. "You're right, Marcus. That's what GiGi tells me during every one of our sessions, and I'm getting that, slowly but surely. You know me, I'm as stubborn as the day is long."

"Don't I know it." He agreed with her wholeheartedly. "But all kidding aside, thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth, Carly. It can't have been easy for you, and if I could erase the pain for you, I'd do it."

"I know you would, Marcus, and that's why I wanted to tell you. You're one of the few people who know the whole story, but I'm glad you know now. One thing that GiGi has taught me is that telling my story on my terms takes away the power that Lawrence once held over me."

"GiGi sounds like a sensible woman and damn smart psychiatrist," he commented.

"She is and more," she agreed. She nibbled briefly on her bottom lip. "She and Kim have gotten Mel and me through several rough patches since we got here. But each day, it gets a little easier. Time really does heal, as cliché as it sounds, and now that you're here, I have a feeling that things will only get better."

Leaning back on the sofa, Marcus grabbed Carly's feet and pulled them into his lap. The squeal she exuded as he playfully ran his index finger across her right instep turned quickly into a groan as his skillful hands manipulated the flesh of her foot. "Oh, my god, yes, right there," she called out, not even caring how she might sound. There wasn't anyone to hear her besides Marcus anyway. "You always were so damned good at that."

"I didn't have much choice. Watching you run around the hospital in those damn stilettos you wore all the time made _my_ feet hurt!" The rich timbre of his laughter washed over her, calming her spirits after the emotional rollercoaster that her memories had taken them on.

"Beauty is pain, my dear Dr. Hunter," she quipped with a wink. She reached for her discarded wine glass, then, and topped it off. Taking a healthy sip, she lay back, flinging her arm over her eyes while Marcus worked his magic.

"Oh, no, baby girl, you aren't getting off that easy," Marcus chided, and he yanked his hands from her feet as if they were on fire.

"Hey, no fair, you didn't finish! You can't leave a girl hanging like that!" Carly exclaimed, sitting up so fast that the wine in her glass sloshed, threatening to spill over.

"The only way you get more of this," he waived at her feet. "Is if you keep that pretty mouth of yours talking."

Jade eyes narrowed ruefully, but Marcus didn't flinch nor did he place his hands anywhere near her feet. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said evenly.

"The hell you don't," he countered. "I want to know what happened when you turned up in Salem again on Bo Brady's doorstep."

Muttering about big-mouthed redheads, Carly chugged the rest of her wine, dropped the glass on the table and flopped back against her end of the sofa. "Fine. But you keep rubbing until I'm done talking, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, resuming his work on her right foot.

"Obviously, Kim told you that the night I arrived in Salem, I broke into Bo's house. I needed help, and he was the only person in town that I thought might give me the time of day. He agreed to help me after I told him what had happened, but of course, nothing is ever simple."

"Especially not where you and Bo are concerned," he remarked.

"Tell me something I don't know," she replied before resuming her tale. "But for the record, I had no intention whatsoever of rekindling my relationship with Bo. He was trying to save his marriage, and I was trying to save my daughter, and I swear that's all there was to it."

"Hey, you don't have to convince me, Manning, I'm on your side, remember?"

She rewarded him with a genuine grin. "Yes, and thank you for that. I can tell you in no uncertain terms that about five minutes after Hope first learned who I was, I didn't have _anybody_ on my side. Hester Prynne was more welcome in Massachusetts Bay Colony than I was in Salem."

"Wait a minute, are you telling me that not a single one of our old friends tried to help you?" Marcus couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice. Carly had always been so beloved by their friends in Salem that he had a hard time picturing anyone not tripping over their own feet to try and help her when she was in trouble.

"Not a one," she confirmed. "I was _persona non grata_ , and everyone from Victor to Kayla to Jennifer never failed to let an opportunity go by to remind me of what a home-wrecking, little floozy I was."

"But, from what Kim tells me, Bo and Hope were headed for divorce court long before you came back into Bo's life," he remarked, genuinely confused. "I mean, Victor is a hateful sonofabitch so I can see why he'd want to torment you, but Jennifer? She was your best friend."

Carly took note of how careful Marcus was to not repeat Kayla's name, and after the way that her almost-sister-in-law had broken Marcus's heart, Carly couldn't blame him. Besides, she didn't want to talk about the woman anyway. Truthfully, she'd always found Kayla a bit of a hypocritical snob. "You're forgetting one very important thing, Marcus. Hope Williams Brady is the 'love of Bo's life,' his 'soulmate,' and me, I was only ever the placeholder. I can't hold a candle to Saint Hope," she finished bitterly.

"Saint Hope?" Marcus repeated doubtfully. Then, he started laughing. Carly, mildly taken aback by his reaction, couldn't quite figure out what she'd said that was so funny. "I'm sorry, baby," he said between fits of laughter. "It's just that, I know Hope, and she's no saint. That woman has been carrying out one scheme or another to get her way since she was a teenager, and I doubt she's improved with age."

Carly gave a decidedly unladylike snort. "Well, all I can tell you is that even after she started taking sleeping pills and ended up attacking half the men in town, somehow poor, pitiful Hope was the victim. To everyone in Salem, she walks on water, and the rest of us are mere mortals and should consider ourselves lucky that she deigns to grace our miserable lives with her presence."

"Hang on, she _attacked_ people? Hope?" Marcus, who knew Hope to be irrational at best when she was after something, still found it hard to believe that she'd hurt anyone on purpose.

"Hand to God," Carly said. "She was so distraught over losing Bo that she started taking sleeping pills. Instead of making her sleepy, they made her crazy, and she started mugging men down by the waterfront. She attacked Roman, Abe, EJ DiMera and Bo before she was arrested. Marcus, she left Bo for dead. He would have burned to death in the fire that Hope set if someone hadn't been walking by and rescued him. But it was all my fault, at the end of the day. If it weren't for me and my husband-stealing ways, poor Hope would never have been forced to take sleeping pills."

"Jesus Christ, Manning," Marcus responded. "That sounds like the half-assed plot to a poorly written soap opera. Hope Brady is nothing more than a spoiled brat who's always had someone else to clean up her messes. But as ridiculous as it is, it still doesn't explain why you're here alone instead of with Bo."

"What part of Hope being the love of Bo's life was unclear, Marcus?" Carly asked, pausing to take another sip of wine. "Far be it from me to stand in the way of 'true love.'"

Marcus shook his head. "Look, I get that I've been gone a long time, but I was around long enough the first time to see Bo with Hope and to see him with you. There's no comparison, baby girl. What you and Bo had was a connection on a spiritual level. Bo and Hope had their moments, but trust me, it's nothing compared to what the two of you shared."

"Well, my friend, you're the only person on the planet who thinks so, because no one shed a single tear when I finally broke up with Bo and got the hell out of Salem. Huh, you know, I'm pretty sure they probably had a parade when my flight was cleared for take-off. At the very least, I'm sure they had a lovely celebration when Bo and Hope renewed their wedding vows." Finding her glass empty, she reached for the bottle to remedy the situation. He held out his glass and she obligingly topped his off, too.

"Just so I'm clear, you broke up with Bo and skipped town, all so he could get back together with the woman who _tried to kill him_." He emphasized the last few words, and Carly nodded resolutely.

"Damn straight," she replied, draining her glass in one long swallow, that Marcus had to admit impressed him. Then again, Carly had always been one of his favorite drinking buddies. "I wasn't going to stick around for the Bo and Hope Show, thank you very much."

"I just don't understand," Marcus said. "You make it sound like what you and Bo had was some sort of tawdry affair, Carly, but that's absurd. That man loved you more than life itself, and you, him. I can't imagine a scenario where Bo Brady would ever choose Hope over you."

"Ugh," she groaned pitifully. "Can we please not talk about Bo and Hope and their fucking love for all the ages anymore? You're killing my buzz, Marcus!"

Sensing that it wouldn't do any good to talk about the matter further, Marcus raised his hands in mock surrender and conceded to a subject change. "Tell me about Mac, then, and why he looked at me like he'd rather punch me tonight instead of shake my hand."

"Oh, hey, I've got a great idea! Let's talk about _your_ love life instead," she suggested with a deceptively bright smile. When Marcus shook his head emphatically, Carly rose to her knees, discarded her empty glass and locked her arms around his neck. "Come on, Marcus, I've spilled all my deep, dark secrets to you. It's your turn. Don't you wanna share?" She pitched her voice to a whisper and smiled coyly at him, batting her eyelashes playfully.

Marcus chuckled at her before dragging her fully onto his lap. His hands went to her sides, tickling her mercilessly until she was shrieking to the heavens for him to stop. Collapsing against him, breathless, she snuggled fully into his arms. "Carly," he whispered sweetly into her ear. "You know I love you, baby girl, but those bedroom eyes of yours are wasted on me."

"Oh, please, Hunter," she scoffed in mock offense. "You couldn't handle me, and besides, I've got enough batteries to last me until the next ice age."

"Holy shit, Carly!" Marcus exclaimed before he dissolved into laughter. "I swear, I don't know how I've made it this long without you."

"Me, neither, and lucky for the both of us, we don't have to wonder anymore," she replied, crawling off his lap and back to her end of the couch. "But don't think that you're completely off the hook. Share and share alike, remember?" She nudged him with her foot gently. "I'm a pretty good listener, too."

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. He wanted to tell her; needed to tell her what had happened to his wife and son. But talking about it was still painful, and he supposed his first instinct would always be to try and bury his grief. Still, Carly was right about one thing – talking, especially with someone who loved him, had to be better than internalizing everything. He'd made the move to LA in part, to put the past behind him, and sharing his burden with Carly was a great place to start. Decision made, he lifted his head, and the sorrow in his soulful, brown eyes cut her to the quick.

"Oh, honey," she whispered softly and opened her arms. He went willingly, thankfully, and when her arms wrapped around him, he steeled himself and bared his soul.

"I met Rachel Holland three years ago. She was a professor of English literature at Boston University. God, she was beautiful, Carly," he said, and the love in his heart was plain to Carly in the tone of his words. "More than beautiful, she was smart. No, she was brilliant, and she was an amazing teacher. Hers were the most sought-after classes in the Department."

"How did you meet her?" Carly wondered.

"I didn't walk in on her in the shower," he kidded, alluding to his first encounter with Carly. "Although, I might have saved us both a little time if I had. She was coming into the local Starbuck's just as I was coming out. I ran smack into her, and spilled my coffee all over her. She was a little, bitty thing, barely 5'2, and she was wearing my coffee from head to toe. I stood there rambling like an idiot, trying to apologize to her, and she was so mad, she started cussing like a sailor – she could've given you a run for your money, Manning, and that's saying something. I offered her my card and told her to send me the bill for her dry cleaning, and that's exactly what she did. I must've managed to speak coherently enough to impress her when she presented her bill to me in person a week later because she agreed to let me take her to dinner.

"We were inseparable after that, and six months later, when I asked her to marry me, she agreed. Rachel was an only child, and both her parents had passed when she was a teenager. Her mother died from ovarian cancer when Rachel was only 13, and when she was 16, her father died from a brain aneurism. We had a handful of friends between us, but neither of us had any family to speak of so we planned a quiet, little ceremony on the steps of Marsh Chapel. We went to New York for a quick honeymoon, and then we came back to Boston. I've never been happier in my life, Carly," he confessed, tilting his head to look at her. "Rachel was everything I'd ever wanted, and I didn't even know what my life was missing until she came along. We both wanted kids, and even though Rachel was only 32, she didn't want to wait any longer. She got pregnant right away, but she miscarried. Two more miscarriages followed, so we made an appointment with a fertility specialist, but he couldn't pinpoint anything that seemed to be wrong. We did our best to just relax and not put any pressure on ourselves, and it must've worked, because by the time we realized that Rachel was pregnant last May, she was almost at the end of the first trimester. We learned a few weeks later that we were having a boy, and I know you're supposed to say that as long as the baby is healthy, the gender doesn't matter, and while that's true, Carly, oh, my god, I was over the moon at the thought of having a son!" His face was practically glowing, and Carly felt her heart trip.

"We decided to name him Matthew," he continued. "It means 'gift of God,' and that's certainly what he was to us."

"All children are gifts from God," she agreed quietly, thinking of Nicholas and Melanie and even the poor baby she'd lost in Italy so many years ago, and Marcus's head moved affirmatively against her shoulder.

"We couldn't wait to meet our boy. Rachel's due date was November 1st, and we planned for her to work right up until she went into labor. She was perfectly healthy and so was Matthew. She'd always been a yoga fanatic, and she kept it up throughout the pregnancy. I swear, some of the positions she'd get herself into…hell, I thought for sure the baby would come flying out of her, just because he got tired of her contorting herself into a pretzel!" he exclaimed, and Carly laughed along with him. "She loved the Bronte sisters, did I mention that?" Carly shook her head, and Marcus's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas as he relived all the amazing nuances that made up Rachel.

"Every night before she went to sleep, Rachel would read passages aloud from either _Jane Eyre_ or _Wuthering Heights._ And I'd gripe the whole, damn time, telling her my kid needed to hear something besides the writings of two sexually repressed white sisters."

Carly laughed richly, as Marcus had known she would. "Honey, you must not have been listening too closely to your wife or else you'd have been able to tell from reading between the lines that the Sisters Bronte were practically the pioneers of the female sexual revolution, give or take a century, of course." Marcus groaned aloud, shaking his head against Carly's shoulder.

"You sound just like Rachel, but I did get her to allow me to add a little Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou to our baby's in-utero repertoire." Just as quickly as it had come, Marcus's laughter died out, and Carly pressed a kiss against his closely cropped, kohl black hair.

"It's all right, Marcus," she said gently. "I'm here, and I'm not letting go."

Drawing in a breath and exhaling shakily, Marcus found his voice once more. "It was just after Labor Day weekend, and Rachel was driving home from work. It was early in the evening, barely 6:00 pm. I was already at home having worked the graveyard shift the night before, and I'd planned on spoiling her rotten when she got home." He grew quiet, and Carly allowed him a few moments of silence. Cold, tendrils of dread had already creeped into her heart, and her stomach clenched over the emptiness in Marcus's voice.

"What happened, Marcus?" she asked softly. She felt something warm and wet on her bare shoulder, then, and she knew he was weeping.

"She, um, she never made it home. She was t-boned at an intersection a block from our house. Some kid out celebrating his 21st birthday hit my wife's car on the driver's side. The police estimated that he was going at least fifty miles an hour when he hit her. My wife and my son were both taken from me, in the space of a few minutes. She was dead before the paramedics could even get her out of the car."

Much as he'd done for her earlier, Carly slid lower so that she could better wrap her arms around Marcus. His went around her waist, and he lay his head against her breast and cried. "I'm so, so sorry, Marcus," she whispered through her own tears. Then she just held him, allowing him to cry out his pain.

When his tears finally subsided, he lifted his head and gave her a watery smile. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

"That we are, my friend," she agreed as she stroked a finger along his jawline. "But you know what, Marcus? We're still standing. Despite everything that's happened to us, everyone and everything we've lost, we're still here. That's gotta count for something."

Nodding his head decisively, Marcus said, "I think it counts for a whole damn lot, Carly." Sitting up, he reached for the forgotten bottle of wine. Giving it a shake, he decided that there was just enough left for them each to have a mouthful, and he carefully divided it between their glasses. Taking his and passing Carly hers, he raised his towards her in a toast. "Here's to starting over, with the best friend I ever had."

"I'll definitely drink to that," she told him, grinning broadly before tossing back the last of the wine. He followed her example and then drew her feet back into his lap. "Oh, if you keep doing that, you're going to put me right to sleep," she warned him.

He shoved her feet off his lap, then burst out laughing at the expression of mock indignation on her face. "No way am I carting you up those stairs, Manning," he informed her, chucking his thumb over his shoulder at the winding staircase behind them. "Fall asleep on me now, and I'll leave your ass here on the couch while I go crawl in that nice, comfy bed down the hall that you gave me."

Carly huffed, but she did get up and stretch her arms over her head, working out the kinks in her own back. "Some friend you are," she mumbled and then winked at him. Snagging their empty glasses, she headed towards the kitchen, and he followed at her heels with the wine bottle. "Recycling bins are in there." She tilted her head towards a closed door off the kitchen, and after opening it, he discovered a large laundry room. Dropping the bottle in the bin labeled "Glass," he pulled the door to once more and joined her in the kitchen where she was rinsing their glasses at the sink.

"So you said Nicky won't be back in town for a while?" he remarked.

She shook her head. "You literally just missed him. He left for London yesterday morning. He's very good to come visit us every month or so, and he calls or texts all the time."

"I guess he's the official head of government in Alamania now, right?" he asked.

"He is, but, Marcus, he's already instated a parliament, something the Lawrence was vehemently against. Nicky's made a few enemies with all the changes he's implemented, but with a freely elected parliament in place, trade deals with Europe and the US have practically tripled overnight. The economy is stronger than it's ever been, and the people's lives have improved so much, not to mention all the work he's done with Alamain Holdings and LA Industries. You know, I never dared to dream that Nicky would ever willingly be a part of my life again," she paused, shrugging her shoulders. "When he called me six months ago, apologizing for the way he'd treated me, well, it was more than I could have hoped for."

"What made him change his mind?" Marcus asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I honestly have no idea, but when he arrived in Salem, he broke down in my arms, crying like a baby, right there in the middle of the airport. To tell you the truth, I don't even care what brought about his change of heart. I'm just so thankful to have both of my children in my life. I'm finally healing, Marcus, and I hope that I can help you do the same." She took his hand in hers, squeezing.

"You already are, Carly," he told her sincerely. He drew her into his arms once more as they each drew comfort from the presence of the other, and that was exactly how Melanie found them a few moments later when she wandered into the kitchen, having arrived home from her night out with friends.

"Hello, Mother and Guy-Who's-All-Over-My-Mother," she called out cheekily, sashaying past them to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

Carly grumbled against his chest before she turned in his arms to face her daughter. "Mel, sweetheart, this my _friend_ , Dr. Marcus Hunter. He's our new Chief of Surgery. Marcus, this is my daughter, Melanie."

Melanie eyed the attractive, African-American man standing beside her mother, before she gave him a welcoming smile and extended her hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Marcus. Kim's told me a lot about you. She said you and my mom were really good friends."

"I'm glad to meet you, too, Melanie, and you may get tired of hearing it, but you sure do look a whole lot like your Mama."

"I do hear it a lot, but I like hearing it," Melanie confessed, shooting a tiny grin at her mom.

For her part, Carly was stuck on one point of the exchange between her daughter and her friend. "Wait just a second, do you mean to tell me that you knew Marcus was coming here? And you didn't tell me?"

"And spoil Kim's big secret?" Melanie responded. "Hell, no! She swore me to secrecy. Besides, even you have to admit, Miss I-Hate-Surprises, that this was a pretty sweet one."

"All right, all right, I know when I'm beaten, but it does make me wonder what _else_ Kim might be keeping from me," Carly muttered before wrapping her arm around Melanie's shoulders. She missed the fleeting moment of panic that crossed Melanie's face, but Marcus didn't. He filed it away for future speculation.

"Well, ladies, as much as it pains me to tear myself away from two such lovely creatures as yourselves, I'm afraid it's a little past my bedtime." Leaning over he kissed Carly on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Marcus," Carly told him. "Wanna join me on my morning run on the beach?"

"I'd love to," he answered. "And, Melanie, I'm really glad to have met you."

Giving him a smile identical to her mother's, she responded, "Me, too, Marcus." When he was gone, she turned to her mother. "Marcus seems like a really great guy."

Carly, recognizing a fishing expedition when she saw one, quickly put a stop to it by explaining her relationship with Marcus in a way that Melanie was certain to understand. "He's my Brady," she said, referring to her godson, Brady Black, with whom Melanie shared a very close friendship, just like the one Carly shared with Marcus.

"Say no more," Melanie said, comprehending right away what her mother meant. "Still, it must be nice to have him back in your life." She knew, more than most, how lonely her mother had truly been, and it made her wish, more than once, that she'd taken the opportunity to give Bo Brady a piece of her mind before she'd left Salem for good. As far as she was concerned, the man could take a long walk off a very short pier, and he could take his little brother, her rat of an ex-husband, Phillip, right along with him.

"It's wonderful," Carly responded as shut off the kitchen light, and she and Melanie made their way to the stairs, which they climbed arm in arm. "Marcus has been gone from my life since before I left Salem the first time, but tonight, when he walked up to me at the benefit, the moment I heard his voice, it was like we'd never been apart."

"I'm glad for you, Mom," Melanie told her truthfully. "You deserve to be surrounded by people who love you." Then brushing her lips to her mother's cheek, Melanie said goodnight and went into her room. Closing the door behind her, she flopped face-down on her bed, releasing a frustrated groan into her pillow. Rolling to her back, she pulled her phone from her pocket and read the text message she'd received from Brady earlier.

 _Hey, Green Eyes, just thought you should know that Uncle Bo and Ciara left on their summer sail this morning. Grandpa says they'll be in Los Angeles in a few weeks to visit Kim & Shane. I'll leave it to you to tell Aunt Carly, but for what it's worth, I really do think Uncle Bo is finished with Hope. Call me tomorrow if you need help running interference – BB_

Unable to come up with a better plan, Melanie did something she hadn't done since she was a little girl. Closing her eyes, she began to pray.

"Dear God, you know, for most of my life, I've thought you had it in for me. I mean, you did let me get taken from my mom when I was born, and you put me in a really crappy home with a rotten piece of sh…sorry, rotten jerk for an adoptive father. Then, you let me marry Phillip, and he turned out to be as far from Prince Charming as a guy can get. And, as long as we're being honest, you haven't exactly done right by my mom, either. Now, look, God, she's finally in a place where she's better. She has a great job and really wonderful friends and me and my brother love her more than anything, and I want her to be happy. Do you know how many nights she cried herself to sleep missing stupid Bo Brady? Do you? What am I saying, of course you do, because you're God and you're supposed to know all this stuff, right? My point is, she's finally started to move past the wreck that Bo made of things, and now, here he comes again into her life, and I really think that you've fallen asleep on the job or something because the absolute _last_ thing that my mother needs is for Bo to worm his way back into her heart and then go trotting back to Hope the next time she gets a hangnail!" She paused, thinking back on what Brady's text message had said. _I really do think Uncle Bo is finished with Hope_. Brady wouldn't have said that if he didn't believe it to be true. Rolling her eyes and taking a deep breath, she resumed her conversation with the Almighty.

"So, look, here's what I need you to do, okay? If Bo coming out here this summer with his kid, who, by the way, the last time I checked, did _not_ like my mother in the slightest, is a good thing, if this is your way of righting all the awful wrongs that have happened to my mom for pretty much all of her adult life, then I'm gonna need you to give me a sign, okay? Yeah, if you could just, you know, make lightning flash in the sky or a burning bush speak or you know, just some little sign that Bo Brady coming to LA won't spell the end of what little happiness my mom has managed to find here, then that'd be great."

Opening her eyes, Melanie nearly jumped out her skin when her phone vibrated in her hand, indicating an incoming text. Raising the phone slowly in front of her, she swiped open the text from an unknown number.

 _Melanie, hi, this is Ciara Brady. Look, don't be pissed, but I made Brady give me your number. For what it's worth, he really didn't want to, but I convinced him it was for a good cause. And it is, at least I think it is, and I hope you will, too. My dad and I are on our way to Los Angeles, but we've got a couple of stops to make along the way. My dad is crazy about your mom, and I know that things ended badly between them, and I know that you have no reason to trust me, but I really want to help get them back together. I treated your mom terribly, and I want to make up for that. So what do you say? Will you help me get our parents back together?_

Melanie read Ciara's text message through three times before she hopped off her bed and did a little happy dance. Then, she responded to Ciara's message. _I'll call you tomorrow when I can, but I'm not entirely against your little matchmaking attempt._ After all, Melanie reasoned in her mind, she'd asked for a sign, and while a text message from Ciara Brady might not be as flashy as a burning bush speaking or the heavens rumbling with thunder and lightning, she'd take what she could get.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's note – Once upon a time, the Powers That Be at DOOL hired a deliciously handsome and talented actor named Bren Foster to breathe life into the character of Quinn Hudson. Because Carly's drug abuse doesn't happen in this universe, Quinn never would have turned up. However, since Bren now plays Wolf on TNT's The Last Ship, and I adore him six ways from Sunday, I decided to give Quinn a reboot and drop him into the story._

 _XO,_

 _Kate_

 _P.S. Thanks to Scousedancer for the magnificent beta work!_

 _Chapter 6_

"Darling, you have to tell her," Shane Donovan instructed his wife at breakfast the following morning. They'd awakened to a text from Bo, telling them that he and Ciara would be joining them in Los Angeles in a few weeks.

Kim resolutely shook her head. "No, no, I absolutely do _not_ have to tell her."

Shane, sighing heavily, put down his cup of coffee, folded his hands together and fixed his wife with a pointed glare. "Kimberly, you're an intelligent woman. Do you honestly believe that your brother is coming here for the express reason of visiting us?"

Kim shook her head slowly.

"Right, then, I think it's safe to assume that at some point during his visit, Bo is going to want to see Carly, don't you?"

This time, Kim nodded in the affirmative.

"My dear, then you must tell Carly that Bo is coming here. Hasn't she been through enough when it comes to your idiot brother?" Shane asked, genuinely concerned. He'd always had a soft spot for Carly Manning, and the last thing the poor woman needed was Bo turning up on her doorstep begging for another chance.

"You're right," Kim conceded, pausing to take a sip of her own coffee. "Oh, sometimes I get so mad at my baby brother, I could just strangle him!" She exclaimed, and Shane's eyes widened as her hands made a gesture of wringing someone's neck. "I love Bo to distraction," she continued speaking. "But for heaven's sake, the way he treated Carly, stringing her along, well, if Pop were still alive, he'd have taken a strap to Bo, I'm telling you!"

Shane, not wanting to get his wife's Irish temper brewing so early in the morning, took his own coffee and moved down the table to a chair next to Kim's. He took her hand and drew it to his lips, brushing a tender kiss to the soft skin. "There, there, love, just settle down, alright? Now, let's look at the facts, shall we? We know that Bo and Hope have been divorced for several months, this time of their own mutual accord, correct?"

"Yes, Bo told me himself how miserable he and Hope had been. He said even Ciara was happier once he and Hope split. As far as I know, the only people not on board with the divorce are – big shocker – my mother and my sister," she explained through clenched teeth.

"Yes, well, never mind that just now," Shane waived aside any mention of his mother-in-law, Caroline, and his sister-in-law, Kayla. "My point is that, for all intents and purposes, Bo appears to have moved on and put his marriage to Hope behind him. Wouldn't you agree?"

Kim put her head in her hands, groaning. "I agree that Bo seems to be through with Hope, but Shane, I don't know that I can encourage Carly to give him another chance," she said, remembering how broken Carly had been when she first came to Los Angeles. "You remember how skittish she and Melanie were when they got here. I think they expected us to treat them the way the rest of the family did. And they've both done so well, putting all the heartbreak behind them that Bo and Phillip had put them through. Ugh! I'm just afraid that if I tell Carly that Bo is coming, it'll just hurt her all over again."

"Honestly, Darling, I'm worried about Carly, as well, but forewarned is forearmed. Better she hears the news straight away from you and has time to plan than for Bo to completely ambush her."

"You're right, I know you're right, but why me?" Kim lamented. "Why have I got to be the one to tell her?"

"Because you're her friend, and she trusts you," Shane said wisely. "I think that before she arrived here, Carly was sorely lacking in the friend department. But now she's got you, Regina _and_ Marcus," Shane pointed out. "I suspect you four could run the whole, bloody world, given half a chance. Surely you can help Carly deal with your brother."

Kim leaned towards her husband, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth as his arms went around her. "You always know exactly what to say to me, Agent Donovan."

"Yes, well, practice makes perfect, love. Now, please, just tell Carly the truth tonight so that she has time to prepare herself for seeing Bo again. Then everything will be fine, you'll see," Shane replied, returning her kiss.

Sighing deeply, Kim pushed out of Shane's arms and turned back to her coffee. "Thanks for talking me off the ledge, Sweetheart."

"Anytime, my love," he assured her with a dashing smile. "I've grown rather fond of you over the years. I think I'd like to keep you around a little while longer."

"Oh, you!" she gasped and swatted him playfully on the chest. "And the man says he loves me!" She feigned offense, but dissolved into giggles as her husband just laughed at her. God knew, she and Shane had certainly been through their own valleys and storms, but they'd weathered them all and were stronger for it.

"Now, Darling, if you'll excuse me, I've must leave if I'm going to make it to my meeting on time." Shane rose from the table, finishing the last dregs of his coffee as he stood.

"Oh, yeah, your new recruit; where's he coming from again?" Kim, as Shane's wife, made it a point to keep track of her husband's newest agents. She and Shane often entertained them in their home when they first arrived, and this one would not be an exception.

"Australia, love, his name is Quinn Hudson." Shane grinned on his way out, knowing that his newest recruit would make quite the impact.

"You know, when you asked me to run with you this morning, I didn't know you meant the ass crack of dawn," Marcus complained as he and Carly ran along the beach.

"Come on, Marcus," Carly teased him. "This is the best time to run! The sun is just peeking over the horizon, and we've got a great breeze coming from the ocean; it's gorgeous out here!"

"It would have been just as gorgeous if you'd let me sleep another hour," he countered.

Carly, a few paces ahead of Marcus, turned to face him, jogging backwards. "I promise, when we get home and you see the sunrise fully over the beach from the patio, you'll be thanking me for dragging you out so early."

"We'll see, Manning, we'll see," he told her. "But let's make this interesting. First one on the patio sets the run time for the rest of the week."

Unable to resist a challenge, she gave him a clipped nod before turning away from him and taking off down the beach. She smiled when she heard Marcus let loose with a torrent of expletives, but she didn't dare look over her shoulder. With his longer legs, he'd overtake her in just a few strides. Concentrating on keeping her breathing even, she ran as fast as she could, pouring on some extra speed when her house came into view. In the end, it wasn't even a contest. Just as she reached the wooden steps leading up to her house, Marcus blew past her, taking the steps two at a time.

"Yes!" he crowed, bouncing on the balls of his feet when she reached the patio. "I hereby proclaim 7:00 a.m. as our run time."

Carly, sporting a grin worthy of the Cheshire cat, merely patted his chest and slipped past him into the house. "Joke's on you, honey. I normally never run before 7:00 a.m."

"The hell?" Marcus jogged to catch up with her as she strolled into the kitchen, pouring her first cup of coffee for the day.

"You should see the look on your face," she giggled in between sips of coffee.

"You are a cold, cold woman," he murmured, reaching for the pot and pouring his own cup.

She said nothing, only waited for him to finish pouring his coffee. Like her, she knew he always took the first cup hot and black. Niceties like cream and sugar were reserved for later in the morning, once they'd gotten the initial jolt from the first dose of caffeine.

Taking their cups back outside to the patio, they sat in companionable silence, enjoying the coffee and the view. Marcus had to give it to Carly; the sunrise over the Pacific was a pretty site, indeed.

"Tell me again about this shindig Kimberly's throwing this afternoon," Marcus asked.

"It's nothing fancy, just a pool party, and Shane will have the grill fired up," Carly explained. "Whenever Shane gets a new agent, he and Kim have a small get-together to introduce the newbie. There'll be a few agents from Shane's unit and then a few of us from the hospital. GiGi will be there," she added slyly, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"So I gathered from her comments last night," he replied. "What's her story?"

"She moved here from New Orleans about five years ago, after she got divorced. She doesn't have any children, but she does have a Scottish Deerhound named Fergus," Carly divulged with a chuckle. "He's three years old, and he's the light of GiGi's life."

"What in the hell is a Scottish Deerhound?" Marcus asked.

"Big dog," Carly said. "It's a really, really big dog. Oh, but he's the sweetest thing, he's like a lapdog, honest. He'll be at the party tonight so you can meet him then."

"Pool parties with dogs, doctors and ISA Agents," Marcus mused. "I _must_ be in California."

"You'll get used to it," Carly assured him.

"Well, California life sure seems to agree with you," he said.

"It was definitely the change I needed. I was such a mess when I got here, but, like I said last night, with time, I've gotten better. You will, too," she added with a tiny smile.

"I'm ready, Carly," Marcus responded, looking out over the vast expanse of the ocean. "I'm not saying I'm ready to move on yet, or start a new relationship, but I'm tired of being sad all the time. I'll never get over losing Rachel and Matthew, but for however long I've got left, I want to enjoy myself. I think Rachel would want that."

Carly reached over and squeezed his free hand. "I'm sure that's what she'd want."

Leaning back in his deck chair, Marcus stretched his legs out in front of him, finishing the last of his coffee. He could see Carly out of the corner of his eye in much the same position, though she had her eyes closed. Deciding there was no time like the present, he cleared his throat and asked the question that he'd wanted to ask the night before, but he'd held back. They'd both been far too emotional.

"What about you, Carly?" he asked, turning to look at her.

She met his gaze, but then she shook her head slightly. "I'm happy, Marcus. I have my children; I have wonderful friends and meaningful work. I don't need anything else."

"Not even love?" He prompted, not surprised when she shook her head again, more forcefully than she had before.

"I've had love, Marcus, and in the end, it only brought me sorrow. So, to answer your question, no, I don't need love – not romantic love, at any rate."

"Carly, come on," he encouraged her, leaning closer to her. "You're an incredible woman, why would you want to shut yourself off from the possibility of sharing your life with someone, of having someone to grow old with?"

"Marcus, don't you understand?" Carly asked, her green eyes pleading with him. "Leaving Salem this time, leaving _Bo_ , it wrecked me. Letting him go was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But if I'd stayed, if I'd tried to hold onto him, I think it would've broken me. I couldn't have watched him choose Hope over me, and I know he would have. He _did_ choose her over me."

Marcus reached out and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He cupped her cheek, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You don't have to explain it to me, honey, I know. I know how you loved him, and I know how badly it hurts to walk away from that kind of love." He did, too, and Carly knew it.

"Does it make me a coward, that I told him to go back to Hope?" she wondered.

"No, baby girl, it makes you human," he said. "You were afraid he'd break your heart so you broke it instead. After all, a self-inflicted wound hurts less than one exacted by someone we love." A lone tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it angrily with her hand, blinking her eyes furiously to prevent any more from escaping.

"I'm tired of crying, Marcus," she whispered. "I don't know that I'll ever be able to think about Bo and not just fall to a million pieces. To be honest, I do everything I can think of to _not_ think about him."

"Then let's not think about him anymore," he agreed. "Tell me some more about your kids and Kim and Shane. Tell me more about GiGi and her really big dog. We'll talk about anything you want."

Nodding in appreciation, Carly did just that.

When they arrived at the Donovan residence Saturday afternoon, Melanie immediately split from her mother and Marcus and waylaid Kim in the kitchen.

"Your brother is coming out here to visit," Melanie said without preamble.

Kim's eyebrows crawled nearly to her hairline, blue eyes going wide. "What? How do you know that all ready? Does your _mother_ know?"

"Of course she doesn't know yet!" Melanie exclaimed. "And to answer your question, Brady told me. He texted me last night to tell me that Bo and Ciara had left for their sailing trip."

"Bo sent me a message this morning, saying he and Ciara would be here in a few weeks," Kim offered.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Melanie prompted.

Kim blinked a few times in rapid succession. "Uh, well, I suppose we could find a medical conference for your mom to go to. Yeah, sure, that's what we'll do! There's got to be something going on _somewhere_ that we can send your mom away for a few days. That way, when Bo shows up, we'll just tell him Carly is out of town."

"What? No, god, that's a terrible idea!" Melanie retorted. "We need a plan to help them get back together," she stated emphatically. "Isn't that obvious?"

Kim, confusion clouding her features, stared at Melanie. "Wait, are you telling me that you want Bo and your mother to get back together?" When Melanie only nodded, Kim asked, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, why?" Melanie asked. Kim continued to stare at her, and it dawned on Melanie why the older woman was so befuddled. "Oh, you mean because when Mom and I first came out here, I told you that Bo was a grade-A fucktard who had used my mom and broken her heart, all so he could go back to his bitch harpy of a wife when she batted her eyes?"

"Ah, yes, dear, something like that," Kim waived her hand in the air.

"Oh, yeah, but see that was then and this is now," replied Melanie. Judging from Kim's expression, she was several steps behind Melanie in the conversation. Huffing loudly, she sought to better explain her reasoning.

"Look, when Brady first told me Bo was coming, I freaked out. I mean, I was in full-on panic mode. I went home, ready to tell Mom that we had to pack a few things, change our names and move to Venezuela, but then I got home, and Mom wasn't alone. She was with Marcus, and I met him, and he seems so great, like he's Mom's big brother or something, and then she told me that Marcus was her Brady, and she seemed so happy and at peace, you know?" Melanie expounded.

Kim could only nod dizzily at Melanie's round-about explanation, and the girl forged ahead with her story. "So I told Mom goodnight and I went to my room. Kim, I did something that I haven't done in _years_ , okay? I prayed; _that's_ how desperate I was! And the strangest thing happened." She paused then, and Kim barely restrained the urge to shake the girl.

She settled for flailing her arms in front of Melanie and asking, "Well, what happened?"

"I got this." She thrust her phone, with Ciara's text message already visible, into Kim's hand, who quickly read the message before passing the phone back to Melanie.

"Oh, well, that's definitely something," she remarked, pleased with her niece's words. Ciara certainly hadn't made things easy on Bo and Carly; the fact that she was willing to own up to her actions spoke volumes to Kim. "And Ciara's text changed how you feel about Bo?"

Melanie nodded, her mouth turned in a soft smile. "Well, yeah, I mean, it's my sign, isn't it? Just out of the blue like that, Ciara texts me, saying how sorry she is and how she wants my help to reunite Mom and Bo; that can't be a coincidence. Don't get me wrong," she rushed to add. "Bo Brady has got some _serious_ groveling to do if he wants another chance with my mom. He hurt her, terribly, maybe worse than anyone else ever has before, but if he's sorry now and he truly loves her; if he's _really_ through with Hope, then, yeah, I want to help him win her back."

Kim didn't know what to say. Having been privy to her brother's relationships, both times with both Hope and Carly, she had no reservations whatsoever that Bo belonged with Carly and she expressed her sentiments to Melanie. "But," she cautioned the younger woman. "You're exactly right; to get your mother to even consent to see my brother is gonna take a miracle."

Melanie raised her chin, undeterred. "Well, stranger things have happened, right? I mean, if worse comes to worse we'll just lock them in a room together, right?"

"Yeah, um, why don't we stick with detaining people against their will as a last resort, what do you say?" Kim returned sarcastically.

"A last resort to what?" Carly asked, coming up to her daughter and her friend. "What are you two conspiring about over here?" She took a sip of her martini, green eyes bright with curiosity. When neither Melanie nor Kim managed to do anything other than stare at one another, companionable expressions of panic on each of their faces, those green eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Mel, sweetheart, what's going on, and don't tell me it's nothing because you two look guilty as hell, and I _know_ something is going on." Carly asked in a tone that brooked no argument.

Sighing heavily, Melanie said a quick, silent prayer for courage, hoping against hope that God was still in as good a mood as he'd been in last night. "Mom, don't freak out, okay?"

"You know something, Mel? No child in the history of the world has ever uttered those words to a parent in preview of _anything_ that turned out to be remotely good," Carly remarked, growing increasingly alarmed. "Now tell me what's wrong, please? Are you all right, baby?"

"Mom, I'm fine, okay, I swear," Melanie hurriedly replied. "I'm fine, you're fine, Kim's fine. It's just that, well, in a few weeks, we're going to have some company, that's all."

"Company?" Carly repeated confused. "What kind of company?"

Taking a deep breath, Melanie blurted, "Bo's coming to see you. He and Hope have been divorced for months, and he still loves you, and he's coming here because he wants another chance with you and I really, really think you should give him one because I love you and I want you to be happy and I don't think you can be happy, really happy, unless you're back with Bo!"

Carly stared at her daughter, eyes wide in shock. She opened her mouth a few times, but no sound came out. Melanie, worry coloring her features, put her hand on her mother's arm. "Mom, did you hear me? Mom?"

Carly, startled when Melanie touched her, blinked a few times. "I'm fine, Sweetheart, but I don't think I heard you correctly." She looked imploringly into her daughter's luminous emerald eyes, an exact replica of her own.

"Mom," Melanie whispered, stepping closer to her mother. "I'm sorry to have just blurted everything out like that, but I mean it, okay? I know you're still in love with Bo, and I know how he hurt you, but I think that maybe you should give him another chance. I think he's still in love with you, too"

Carly ran her free hand through Melanie's sleek, dark hair, tenderly brushing it off her brow. "Mel, baby, I love you with all my heart, but please, if you love _me_ , drop this." Melanie began to protest, but Carly stepped away from her daughter. She downed the rest of her martini in only a few seconds, steel flashing in her jade eyes. "There's no way in the world that I will ever let Bo Brady back into my life." Then, turning on her heel, she fled, leaving Melanie to watch, helpless, as her mother fell apart. She started after her, but Kim restrained her.

"Let her go, honey, just for a little while," Kim said gently. "Marcus is already going after her, and your mom'll be okay."

Melanie nodded pitifully, her face a picture of anguish. "I was only trying to help." Kim, with her mother's heart, slipped her arm around the young girl and turned her away from the site of her mother shaking in Marcus's arms.

"Come with me. I'll introduce you to Quinn, Shane's new agent," Kim said with a saucy smile.

"Okay, but are you sure I shouldn't go after Mom?" she wondered, looking to Kim for guidance.

With a reassuring grin, Kim herded Melanie through the kitchen and out the glass doors to the pool. "I've known your mom a long time," Kim said as they walked. "So trust me when I say that whatever it is, it's got to be Carly's idea. Just give it some time, and you'll see."

"Thanks, Kim," Melanie said, impulsively pulling the older woman into a hug. "You've been a great friend to Mom and to me," she added shyly.

"Oh, honey, don't you know by now that we're family? Family isn't always blood, but family, true family, means always being there for each other, no matter what," Kim responded warmly, patting Melanie's back just as she would her own daughter's. With Jeannie now living in New York, Kim had taken on Melanie as a surrogate daughter, and her affection for the young nurse was genuine.

Melanie surveyed her surroundings, mulling over Kim's words. Marcus and her mom had been joined by GiGi and Fergus who lay peaceably at the trio's feet. Her mother seemed to be holding it together in the company of her friends. Shane and Mac were talking to the new agent – he had to be the new agent because he was the only person Mel didn't recognize – while they manned the grill that was the crowned jewel in the Donovans' outdoor kitchen. The new guy had his back to Melanie so she could only tell that he was quite fit with a headful of dark, wavy hair. Audra and Wes, the other two agents who made up Shane's unit, were talking with Richard and Michael. _Family_ , she thought. "Yeah, I think I'm finally beginning to learn that," she answered with a sunny smile.

"Good girl, now come on and meet Quinn. Oh, and, honey let me tell you something, this one is very, very easy on the eyes. If I were twenty years younger, I'd push you in the pool and run off with him myself!" Kim winked, and Mel threw back her head and laughed. Her laughter caught the attention of the three men at the grill, and Quinn's head shot up, hazel eyes seeking out the source. His gaze landed on a goddess holding onto Mrs. Donovan's arm, and he inhaled sharply. He watched as the goddess greeted his new boss and Mac by kissing them each on the cheek before turning her attention to him. Smiling, she held out her small hand for him to grasp, and Quinn took it, losing himself in the soft green of her eyes.

"I'm Melanie Jonas, and I'm a nurse at the hospital with Kim," she said. "Welcome to L.A."

"Agent Quinn Hudson, at your service," he responded, reluctantly dropping her hand. Christ, just touching her hand had ignited a spark in him that nearly did him in!

"So how do you like it so far?" She asked. She hated making small talk, and she prayed that she wouldn't come off sounding like a blithering idiot.

"To be honest, it just got a whole lot better." His roguish grin set off a blossom of fire low in her belly, and Melanie felt the need to even the playing field.

"Well, come on, then, Secret Agent Man." She crooked her finger at him and nodded towards the bar across the patio. "Why don't we get a drink and talk a little more about…L.A."

None of the others were the slightest bit surprised when Quinn only nodded rather stupidly, especially for a world-class ISA agent, and followed Melanie across the patio, nothing in his sights but the pretty, little nurse with a siren's smile and emerald eyes.

Stepping into her husband's open arms, Kim smiled, quite satisfied with herself. "That didn't take long."

Shane snorted as he turned down the gas a notch on the grill. "Come now, Darling, you never doubted for a moment that sparks would fly between those two." He tipped his head towards Melanie and Quinn who appeared to getting on well, if their body language was any indication. His wife prided herself on being quite the matchmaker, and Shane had known the moment she'd lain eyes on Quinn, she'd jump at the chance to work her magic between his new agent and Melanie.

Kim, undaunted by Shane's teasing, leaned up to give her husband a smacking kiss. Mac, finishing his beer and reaching for another, rolled his eyes. He loved Kim, really, but she and Donovan were so lovey-dovey, it got on his nerves. He didn't begrudge his friends their happiness, but he was damn well ready to find some happiness of his own. Since the one woman he thought could bring him that elusiveness happiness was immune to his charms, Mac was left on the outside looking in.

Ignoring Kim and Shane, Mac sought out the object of his affection and found her in close conversation with GiGi and the new Chief of Surgery. His gaze didn't linger; he was so crazy for her that it hurt to look at her sometimes. When Carly had left the night before with Marcus Hunter, Mac had nearly lost his cool. He'd been trying since Day One to get close to Carly and couldn't get so much as a lunch date with her, but she'd left quick enough with Hunter, practically dragging the man out the door. When Kim had taken pity on him and explained that Carly and Marcus were the closest of friends and nothing more, Mac had felt marginally better, but not by much.

Countless times, he'd asked her out, and each time, she'd turned him down. She was always warm and friendly to him, and finally, she had explained to him that she'd just gotten out of a bad relationship, and she was only going to focus on herself and her kids going forward. Mac had respected that and stopped pestering her for dates, but he couldn't help the way he felt. Somewhere along the line, he'd fallen in love with Carly. She was beautiful, incredibly so, but she was also kind, and she was a brilliant surgeon. She had a wicked sense of humor that never failed to set Mac laughing, and she was a wonderful mother. She was everything that Mac wanted; she just didn't want him.

Sighing heavily, he took another pull from his beer. When he lowered the bottle, he felt like he was being watched. Turning in Carly's direction, he was a little surprised to find her openly regarding him. When her pretty mouth produced a welcoming, if somewhat shy, smile, it hit him like a thunderbolt, and he returned her smile, tipping his beer bottle in her direction. She stood, then, murmuring something to her companions and neatly stepping over GiGi's dog who had taken up residence at Carly's feet. Stopping long enough to grab a beer from one of the buckets of ice strategically placed around the patio, she made her way to him, and Mac traced every step she made with his eyes. He was afraid to blink, worried that he was imagining the whole encounter, but then she was standing in front of him, so close that he could feel the heat from her.

"Hi," she said breathlessly, still giving him that sweet smile.

"Hi," he parroted back. He wanted to say something more intelligent, like how gorgeous she was in the red sundress she was wearing, the setting sun igniting flecks of gold and auburn in her chestnut hair, but he was unsure of himself, unsure of her, and the last thing he wanted was to say the wrong thing and send her running for the hills. He settled for a rather mundane but safe, "Are you having a good time?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," she answered with a shrug. "Are you?"

He nodded enthusiastically, but then he felt ridiculous. He'd known Carly for months; he'd spent eight years in the Navy and was a highly respected cardiologist. He should be able to talk to a woman without reverting to a bumbling teenager. Chuckling at his own idiocy, he shook his head. When she started laughing, too, as if she could read his mind, it took the tension away, and he felt a thousand times better, knowing that she seemed to be as nervous as he.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" He asked and allowed his eyes to roam unchecked, drinking her in. To his pleasure, she blushed under his scrutiny, and he decided to roll the dice, telling her how she beautiful she looked.

"Thank you," she answered softly, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. He longed to follow her movements and raised his hand to do just that when he froze awkwardly, not sure if she'd permit such an intimate gesture.

Her eyes never left his as she inhaled shakily. Part of her, the sensible side, was ordering her to calmly, but quickly, take the nearest available exit and scatter back to GiGi and Marcus where it was safe. But the other half of her, the side of her personality that had forced her to flee from her boarding school as a teenager and defy her parents who had bargained her off to the highest bidder; the part of her that had encouraged her to make the move from Tahiti to Salem on nothing more than a chance meeting and a wing and a prayer; the side that had made the call to Kimberly Brady, of all people, and asked for a job, that was the side that had sent her over to Mac. Even though she was terrified of putting herself in a position that might allow another man she trusted to hurt her, she couldn't deny that it felt wonderful to be standing in front of a man who was looking at her like she had worth, like she was _his_ choice and not some consolation prize, especially after what she'd learned tonight from her daughter. Indulging in the feelings swirling inside her as she looked in Mac's warm, blue eyes, Carly summoned all her courage and spoke.

"You know all of those times you asked me out, Mac?" She spoke quietly; there was no need for any of the others to hear what they were saying to one another.

Mac nodded slowly, still not sure where she was going, but more than willing to follow her. "I remember all of those times you shot me down." His tone was light, but a shadow darkened in his eyes, and Carly felt bad for having put it there.

"Ask me again," she said, her heart tripping in her chest.

Swallowing hard, Mac waited the space of his own pounding heart before he asked, "Carly, would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

"Yes, I'd love to have dinner with you, Mac," she answered, and the smile he gave her made her feel like she'd just given him the most wonderful gift. It also gave her the nerve to ask if he'd like to take a walk on the beach with her. Taking her hand in answer, Mac led the way through the open gate that led down to the Donovans' private stretch of beach.

Shane and Kim watched them go, the latter scarcely believing her own eyes and the former raising a toast in the direction of the departing pair. "Good on you, mate," he cheered only to receive a swift smack to the chest from his wife. "Ooof! Oi, what did I say?"

"Shane!" Kim exclaimed. "Do you have any idea what just happened here?"

Shane, still not understanding what had his wife in such a dither, responded, "It looked very much to me like Mac is well on his way to getting the girl."

"Oh, good grief!" she groaned. "Don't you remember what we talked about this morning? Bo is on his way here in a few weeks to win Carly back. Melanie and Ciara are in cahoots with each other, trying to help their parents get back together. Carly overheard Mel and me talking earlier, and she swore she'd never let Bo back in her life. Don't you find it strange that tonight, of all nights, Carly finally cozied up to Mac, when she's done nothing but turn him down for months?" Kim stopped, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Shane glanced down the beach, but Mac and Carly had long since left his line of sight. "Sweetheart, I won't pretend to know the inner workings of any woman's mind, not even yours, but Carly isn't the type of woman to use someone. I don't think she'd deliberately pit Mac and Bo against one another. Whatever her reasons, we should trust her to know her own mind and make her own decisions." He paused, thinking back on the early days of Carly's first relationship with Bo. He and Kim had been separated then, and she'd not been in Salem at the time. He'd known from the beginning, along with everyone else in town, that Bo and Carly were destined for one another. But they'd certainly taken their time about working out their differences, and when Bo had refused to commit to Carly in the beginning, Carly, hungry for love and acceptance, had allowed herself to become involved with Bo's father, Victor Kiriakis. God, what a terrific disaster that had turned out to be! Still, Mac wasn't Victor by any stretch of the imagination, and it was possible that Carly wasn't willing to open herself up to Bo again.

"Carly would never do that," Kim agreed. "It's the timing that has my head spinning. I'm just worried, that's all. I don't want anyone to get hurt, Shane, and even without Mac in the thick of things, there is a lot of potential for broken hearts between Carly and my brother."

Shane squeezed Kimberly closer before kissing her deeply. Her arms wound tightly around his neck as she got lost in the feel of her husband's mouth on hers. When the kiss ended, he looked in her eyes, his love for her written all over his face. "Darling, I think that Bo and Carly's hearts have been broken for quite some time. Perhaps they'll work things out and heal one another; perhaps not. But worrying yourself into an ulcer won't help anything. Please, for me, will you relax tonight? Carly and Mac have taken a walk on the beach. I hardly think we'll be reading the banns in the town square tomorrow," he pointed out with a boyish grin.

Kim chuckled a little, nodding in agreement. "You win, Agent Donovan. I think I'll fix myself a margarita and visit with our other guests. Oh, and don't burn my steak!" she called over her shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," he replied, still grinning. He expertly flipped the steak he'd earmarked for Kim, keeping it rare and cool the way she liked it, and cast his eye over his party guests. Richard had pulled out his guitar and was tuning it up. He was quickly joined by Melanie, Quinn in tow. Richard had an incredible voice, and he always obliged them with several songs whenever they were all together. Melanie, who was quite the songbird herself, had taken to singing with Richard, and the pair made for quite the talented duet. Soon enough, the opening chords of _Tiny Dancer_ drifted across the patio, and Shane hummed quietly to himself as Melanie added her voice to harmonize above Richard's.

Marcus's focus was torn from GiGi as he listened to Richard and Mel singing. "I had no idea Carly's kid could sing like that," he commented in wonder.

GiGi smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah, our little Mel can really belt out the hits. Wait 'til you hear her by herself. I mean, she and Richard are great as a duet, but that girl is a star on her own." She turned back to look at Marcus, her movement putting her closer to the man than she'd been previously. He didn't seem to mind; he mirrored her movement until their shoulders were touching, and they both relaxed into the glider, listening to Richard and Melanie.

"So what do you think our girl's up to on the beach?" GiGi whispered conspiratorially.

"Hell, I'm just glad she got off her ass and got on the beach," Marcus deadpanned, and GiGi giggled adorably. "The last thing she needs is Bo Brady showing up and tearing her to pieces again. If he thinks he can waltz back into her life, he's got another thing coming." Carly had shared with them about Bo's impending visit, and GiGi had immediately offered to run away with her while Bo was in L.A.

"Then you and I are of the same mind," GiGi assured him. "Mr. Brady would do well to steer clear of me while he's here, and he sure as hell better stay away from Carly."

Kim, who overheard Marcus & GiGi's comments – not that she was eavesdropping; she just happened to be walking behind them, albeit slowly, while they were talking – raised her eyes towards the heavens, the first of the evening stars blinking in the darkening sky, and mumbled, "I hope you've got your waders, little brother, because from where I'm standing, you're gonna be in it up to your eyeballs when you get into town."


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: The italicized portion of this chapter is taken straight from the scene as it originally aired on DOOL, which, by the way, still doesn't belong to me. Thanks to my dear friend,_ _ **LadywriterA**_ _, who, when I asked our little group if anyone happened to have the dialogue for this particular scene written out, jumped right on it and sent it to me. Thanks to_ _ **Scousedancer**_ _for the beta._

 _Chapter 7_

Ciara looked out across the open plain, roughly the size of a football field, then cast a skeptical eye at her father. "Are you sure, Dad?"

Bo nodded encouragingly, waiving at his daughter to get her moving. "I promise, now just run to the other end and wait."

Readjusting her sunglasses and shrugging her shoulders, Ciara did as she was bidden. Jogging away from her father, she dodged several groups of other tourists until she took up a spot at the end of the courtyard opposite where she'd left her father standing. He was so far away from her, she doubted that he'd be able to hear her if she shouted.

"Hey, Ciara." Her father's voice sounded in her ear just as clearly as if he'd been standing next to her. It startled her so much that she looked around, wide-eyed, looking for some kind of wire or microphone, amazed that her dad had been telling the truth.

"Oh, my god, Daddy!" she exclaimed. "I really can hear you! Can you hear me okay?"

Grinning broadly, he explained, "It's the acoustics, or so a very smart lady informed me many years ago." Closing his eyes, Bo recalled the memory in perfect detail. Having found Carly missing that morning, he'd set off searching for her, frantic that she'd be spotted by the Mexican police, or worse, one of Victor's goons. His search had led him to the Mayan ball court where, nearly at his wits' end, he'd heard her voice at last.

 _"You looking for someone?" He spun around in a circle at the sound of Carly's voice, expecting to find the woman he loved._

 _"Well, are you or aren't you?" Wildly spinning in the opposite direction, he searched for her, growing more and more baffled when he failed to spot her. Frustrated, he called out to her. "Carly?"_

 _"That's the name, don't wear it out," came her taunting reply._

 _He continued his search, asking where she was._

 _"Behind you," she answered, and Bo made one last spin to see her afar off, at the opposite end of the ball court. "_ Way _behind you," she added with a jaunty wave._

 _"I bet you think you're cute, huh?" He grumbled, trying to maintain his anger over the worry she'd put him through. He knew it was a losing battle, but he was going to hold out as long as he could._

 _"Don't you?" She shrugged._

 _"Do you know how worried I was about you?" He asked, and it was only when she didn't respond that he noticed something incredibly strange. "Wait a minute…" He trailed off._

 _"Yes?" She asked, nibbling on her bottom lip while she watched him work out the solution._

 _"I can hear you!" He exclaimed in wonder._

 _"Finally, he notices!" She responded, laughter bubbling forth._

 _"Well, how?" He was still puzzled as to the explanation._

 _"It's the acoustics," she supplied. "If you were standing in the middle of the court, you wouldn't hear a word I said, but at a higher end, you can hear a pin drop."_

 _"Oh, yeah?" He asked with a grin._

 _"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod._

 _"So you can hear me when I talk like this?"_

 _"Yeah, of course."_

 _He laughed then. "That's great 'cause I got something to tell you."_

 _That pretty mouth of hers turned up in a smirk. "You know, I'm not really in the mood for any lectures, especially…"_

 _He interrupted her, shaking a finger at her, but he was unable to keep the smile from his face. "Do you even realize the seriousness of the situation?"_

 _Undaunted, Carly smiled gently. "Bo, I love you."_

 _Exasperated that he couldn't seem to stop her from taking stupid chances, he fussed at her. "Don't try to sidetrack me."_

 _"I love you," she repeated fervently. "Madly, passionately and completely, and I can't wait to make love to you; if you only knew how much I want you right this minute."_

 _Floored at her brazen attitude, Bo scolded her, "Carly!"_

 _"What?" She wondered, as though it were a common occurrence for them to discuss their sex life in public._

 _"There are tourists around here. How would you like one of them to hear you?" He was slightly scandalized at her behavior._

 _"Oh, I wouldn't care," she assured him._

 _"You wouldn't?" He mused at the boldness she exuded._

 _"No. I don't care who hears what we have to say to each other," she answered with that sexy, little smirk of hers._

 _Downright flabbergasted at Carly's sauciness, Bo decided that turnabout was fair play. "Oh, okay, well, what if I was to mention, say, what I want to do to you once we come together? Would that bother you?"_

 _She didn't hesitate and that smirk was beginning to do things to his libido. "Not in the least."_

 _"Not in the least," he repeated with surprised laughter. "Well in that case…" He stopped suddenly, lost momentarily in the wonder that was Carly Manning._

 _Carly snickered at Bo's expression before asking, "What are you waiting for?"_

 _"I'm waiting for you, Princess," Bo smiled at her. "I've been waiting for you."_

 _"It'll be worth it," she vowed._

 _"Is that a promise?" He asked, hoping and praying it was._

 _"It's more like a guarantee," she stated with complete certainty._

 _He stared at her for a beat, then he laughed to disguise his rapidly growing need for her. Just the idea of her spread out beneath him, of getting lost at last in the seductive secrets of her body, was enough to have him ready to take her there, tourists be damned. "Dr. Manning, I never knew you were so..."_

 _"What, sexy?" She offered helpfully._

 _"No, that I knew." Did he ever; the woman was sexy personified! "I just didn't know you were so, um…" He floundered again, but as usual, she anticipated his need._

 _"Confident?" She suggested and he readily agreed._

 _"Confident, that's it."_

 _"Well, I can't help it, I just know how good it's going to be." She was nibbling on her bottom lip again, and he desperately longed to taste her kiss, he ached to cover her mouth with his._

 _Unable to stand the distance between them any longer, he called out a warning, "Alright, that's it. I'm on my way over there. I'm gonna…"_

 _His train of thought was derailed by his verdant-eyed seductress when she reminded him of their current…limitations. "You know, I thought you wanted me to keep a low profile here in Chichen Itza."_

 _Bo, feeling like someone had just poured a bucket of cold water all over him, responded sullenly, "Yeah, right, you had to remind me?"_

 _"Aw, sorry," she said, though her smile was anything but repentant._

 _"Okay, now that we're on the subject," Bo began reasonably enough before the wild fear he'd experienced earlier roared suddenly to the surface, casting a serious pall over his next words. "You got to promise me that you're never going to do anything like that ever again." Even as he spoke, he knew there was no way in hell that this would be the last time Carly would go off half-cocked when something or someone she cared about was at stake. Recklessly brave, she'd cast herself into the fire if it meant saving another from the same fate, and Bo loved her for it, but he often thought his sanity would be better preserved if he could just tie her to a chair until his scheming father was brought to justice._

 _Carly naturally saw things from a different perspective, waiving away his concern and telling him, "Oh, you know what? In a few hours this whole thing is going to be over."_

 _Bo, who knew better than most the damage that madmen could inflict in the space of a few moments, never mind several hours, reminded her, "That doesn't mean we can be careless! We've got to be very careful here."_

 _Carly's brow wrinkled adorably, a sure sign that she was about to get worked up into a tizzy. "Yeah, I know," she responded aloofly. "You don't have to tell me that."_

 _"Well, maybe I don't," Bo conceded, trying to get a handle on his emotions. "But there's something I do have to tell you. That's why I got so upset when you weren't there when I came looking for you."_

 _"I'm sorry," she said again, and this time, Bo could see that she did mean it. "I'm here now. Go ahead and tell me."_

 _"Okay, I'll tell you," he nodded resolutely, then began to smile. "First of all, I love you."_

 _"I love you, too," she replied sweetly._

 _"And, um, I worry an awful lot about you." An understatement, admittedly, Bo thought as stress over Carly's antics the last couple of days had surely taken years off his life._

 _"I worry about you, too," Carly said swiftly. "Is that all?" She was looking at him oddly, and Bo suddenly felt like she knew what he'd come to ask her. He'd wanted to surprise her, to sweep her off her feet, and he couldn't do that if his brilliant girlfriend already suspected his intent._

 _"No," he replied, stalling for time. "There's something else I got to tell you." His eyes raked over her form, then, and he was gone. Oh, god, how he loved her! And now, now, that they were so close to having everything they'd ever wanted, when he could finally hold her in his arms and at last make love with her, when he was poised to ask her the most important question he would ever pose to her, one look at Carly Manning had sent him ass over teakettle, off his game and out of his mind. She wasn't even_ doing _anything other than standing there, hands in the pockets of her shorts, watching him with unguarded affection and looking for all the world like she couldn't wait to devour him._

 _"Damn!" he exclaimed, and she giggled – she actually giggled! – at him. "I don't remember what it was. I hate when this happens…um…"_

 _"What?" she asked, one eyebrow rising elegantly._

 _"Oh, I remember what it is." He paused to deeply inhale, filled with equal parts excitement and nervousness. Then he looked straight at her, their eyes locking even across the distance, and asked, "Will you marry me?"_

 _She was speechless, and Bo had to quell the panic that flared in his chest. Now more nervous than excited, he mumbled, "I guess the acoustics aren't as good as they say here."_

 _Carly's face softened as she pondered what Bo had asked. "Did you…just…" She was the one lost for words now, and Bo, realizing that her silence wasn't a sign of rejection after all, beamed broadly at her, wasting no time in repeating himself._

 _"I want you to marry me!" He shouted, motioning her towards him with an enthusiastic wave of his hand. "I have never, EVER, wanted anything more in my life!" Pure joy radiated forth from his very soul as he saw the answering smile on Carly's face. When she broke into a run, he sped off to meet her, catching her in his arms and spinning her in circles as they laughed together, sharing their happiness with one another in wild kisses and broken declarations of love._

Bo was drawn out of the embrace of his memory when his daughter's silvery laugh floated to him on the breeze. His eyes popped open and instantly narrowed in on the tall, fair haired boy who was standing entirely too close to Ciara for Bo's comfort. Jogging over to the two of them, he stopped in front of the pair, crossed his arms over his chest and waited until Ciara squirmed under the weight of his stare.

"Dad, hi, there you are," she said unnecessarily.

"Yes, Ciara, here I am," he said evenly. "Now, who is this?" His dark eyes swung to the boy, and he was taken aback when the kid thrust out his hand and met Bo's stare directly.

"Ethan Lewis, Sir," he supplied with a hearty handshake. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Bo Brady, and this is my daughter, Ciara." If Bo squeezed the boy's hand a little too tightly, well, that was his prerogative. The boy, Ethan, didn't noticeably flinch, but he did step a few inches back from Ciara.

Rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses, Ciara groaned internally. "Dad, Ethan is here for the summer. He's doing an internship through the History Department at UCLA."

"UCLA, huh," Bo eyed Ethan. "So you're, what, a Freshman?"

Smiling broadly, Ethan shook his head. "No, Sir, my Senior year begins this fall."

That surprised Bo, and he wasted no time in pointing out Ciara's age, just in case his daughter had failed to divulge that particular detail. To the young man's credit, Ethan looked confused, but Ciara flung up her hands, completely exasperated with her father. "Oh, my god, Daddy, Ethan is going to be a Senior in _high school."_ She was careful to emphasize the last two words before turning to Ethan. "Please overlook my father, Ethan. He's the police commissioner back home, and years of work in the criminal justice field have left him skeptical of everyone else on the planet. Plus, I'm the youngest of my siblings and therefore get the brunt of all his fatherly concern." Her last words were directed at Bo and even with her glasses covering her eyes, he could tell she was glaring daggers at him.

Ethan shrugged, good natured. "I understand, Ciara, and it's okay," he said before turning to Bo. "My dad is the director of the History Department at UCLA, and I've got two sisters. Whenever one of them brings over a new boyfriend, my dad takes the guy on a tour of his study. He's got all kinds of torture devices dating from the Medieval period of Europe, not to mention the sacrificial daggers he has from the Mayan and Aztec ruins he's investigated. By the time my dad's done with my sisters' dates, the guys are convinced their bodies would never be found." Ethan finished his story with a charming wink to Ciara who laughed prettily.

Bo, still not at all comfortable that his little girl was openly flirting with a boy right in front of him, pulled out his phone and checked the time. Between his earlier daydreaming about Carly and encountering Ethan, they were going to be late for their next appointment. "Ciara, honey, we've got to get a move-on. We're supposed to meet Professor Moore for lunch at his house."

"Professor Hank Moore?" Ethan inquired.

"Yeah, that's him. He's an old friend," Bo explained and the boy grinned again.

"Professor Moore is one of my father's closest friends. In fact, I'm staying with him and his wife while I'm here this summer. He's in charge of the internship."

"My dad and I are staying with them for a few days, too," Ciara said. "Wow, it really is a small world, huh?"

"Isn't it?" Bo responded dryly, not giving Ethan a chance to even comment. He didn't care at all for the way that Ciara and Ethan were looking at one another, and when the boy mentioned that he needed to leave to give a guided tour, Bo was greatly relieved, until his daughter pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head and gave Ethan a million-dollar smile.

"Hey, maybe I could get a tour from you tomorrow, do you think you'd have time?"

Ethan returned the smile in kind, bobbing his head enthusiastically. "Sure! I'm free tomorrow afternoon."

"Great, well, I guess I'll see you later tonight at the Professor's?" Ciara asked hopefully.

"Count on it," Ethan answered, then he looked at his watch. "I'm sorry to just run off, but I really need to go. Bye, Ciara, Mr. Brady." A little dreamy-eyed, Ciara watched Ethan as he bounded off towards a group of tourists clustered at the base of a statue. Then she slowly turned to her father, dropping her glasses back into place.

"Are you ready to go now, Dad?" She asked nonchalantly.

"It'd be nice," Bo said, a bit of sarcasm bleeding through.. "But only if you're done mooning over that boy. I'd hate to deprive you of the opportunity with something as trivial as lunch and meeting some old friends of mine."

"Oh, Daddy, sometimes you just don't think at all, do you? I'm all yours today; tomorrow afternoon, I'll be all Ethan's." She giggled cheekily.

"Ciara Alice Brady, you'd better not be his or anyone else's _anything_ for a very, very long time," he warned her in full-on Papa Bear mode.

"Daddy, please," Ciara said as she slipped her arm around Bo's waist as his settled over her shoulders. "I promise that you have absolutely _nothing_ to worry about."

"Little One," Bo said gently as they walked back to the Jeep he'd rented. "I'm your father, and the only time I won't worry about you is when I'm dead. Hell, I'll probably still worry even then," he added with a chuckle and Ciara laughed, too. "It's just, sometimes, when you come into a room, I expect to see a little girl with pigtails dragging a ratty blanket and a teddy bear. But those days are gone; you're a young woman now, and in just a few years you'll be off to college. So if I'm a little…overbearing when it comes to you and boys, just do me a favor and give your old man a break, huh? I know it's hard to believe, but I was a teenage boy at one time, and teenage boys kinda have a one-track mind when it comes to teenage girls."

"God, Dad, is this your attempt at having the sex talk with me? Because if it is, let me save us both the trouble, not to mention the gag-inducing embarrassment," she said sliding into the passenger seat of the Jeep.

"Honey, no," Bo said as he took the driver's seat, cringing at the thought of his daughter even _thinking_ about sex, never mind discussing it. "I know your mom has already talked to you. This is just me trying to tell you that, as your dad, there isn't a boy alive that I'll ever think is good enough for you, and when I look at you, a part of me is always going to see that little girl in her pigtails," he admitted.

Ciara, deeply affected by her father's words, studied the lush landscape for a few moments before sighing heavily. "Dad, I love you," she said and squeezed his hand where it rested on the stick shift. "But I'm not a little girl, and I haven't been for a really long time. I'm always going to need you, Mom, too, and I hope that we'll always be close, but you have to let me go a little bit." She finished with a bit of an edge to her voice that seemed harsh even to her own ears.

"Ciara, I'm not trying to stop you from living your life," Bo said. He felt like they were headed towards an argument, and that was the last thing he wanted. "I'm not even going to stop you from going with Ethan tomorrow. Just know that I'll be worried while you're gone, and I'll be really glad to see you when you get back." The smile he gave her soothed any feathers that had been ruffled, and she relaxed into the seat.

Silence settled over the pair as they drove, but Ciara stirred at last, wanting to ask her dad for more information on Carly. Slowly but surely, she was developing a sense of the woman who had left such an indelible mark on her father, and thus far, Bo had not refused any of her questions, but she'd only inquired about Carly's personality and the woman's life, so far as her father knew it, before she'd come to Salem the first time. She'd not asked too much about her father's romantic relationship with the woman who, had things worked out differently, might well have been her mother.

But when her dad had left the boat that morning to secure the Jeep for their time spent in Chichen Itza, Ciara had found several more pictures of him and Carly, and one, in particular, had caught her eye. It was a photo of Carly, Bo, and Ciara's oldest brother, Shawn. Shawn looked to be around five or six in the photo, and he was snuggled between Carly and Bo, all three of them smiling happily. They looked like a family, and Ciara had begun to wonder what might have happened if Carly had never left Salem all those years ago. She knew from her brother that their mother had turned up in Salem about three years after Carly had left, confused as to her true identity, but very much alive. Her dad had been in a relationship with Billie Reed by then, but he'd left her quick enough to reunite with his long-lost wife. Glancing at her father from the corner of her eye, she finally asked the question that had been burning in her mind since she'd come across the picture.

"Daddy, I want to ask you something, but, well, before I ask you, I need you to promise that you'll answer me truthfully." Her dad looked strangely at her, and she rushed to clarify her statement. "What I mean is, I don't want you to tell me what you _think_ I want you to say. I want to hear _your_ honest opinion."

Bo stared ahead at the road for a few seconds before succinctly nodding. "All right, Little One, fire away."

"From everything you've told me, you and Carly were _really_ in love. If she hadn't left Salem to be with her son and his father, if she'd stayed with you and Shawn, when Mom came back, would you have left Carly like you did Chelsea's mom?" Ciara waited patiently for her dad to respond, not sure why her father's answer was so important to her, only knowing that it was. She held no illusions that her parents would ever get back together; she'd be the first to testify as to how her life had improved dramatically since they'd officially divorced. But, still, she needed her father to answer her question.

Bo pondered Ciara's query, along with the promise she'd extracted from him. He didn't have to wonder about what he'd have done had he still been with Carly when Hope had come back, and since he'd promised his daughter the truth, he intended to make good on that promise. "It was strange, to say the least, when your mom came back to Salem. At one point in my life, I was deeply in love with your mother, Ciara, and when I thought she'd died, well, if it hadn't been for your brother, I don't know that I could've held myself together. We'd been in a sort of rough patch, your mom and I, and we'd only just begun finding our way back to one another when I thought I'd lost her forever. It was a terrible time, and I spent most of it angry with the entire world. I hated the man who'd taken your mom away, but mostly, I hated myself for not protecting your mother, for not saving her, and I swore that I'd never love again. I couldn't open myself up to that kind of pain and loss ever again." He paused for a moment, allowing himself to recall those early days without Hope, how he'd raged, hot and black, at everyone who'd tried to help him. He'd been grieving, yes, but he'd also been a complete bastard to friends and family alike, determined to keep everyone and everything at arm's length.

Ciara studied her father from her vantage point in the passenger seat, trying to imagine what he'd been like all those years ago, a young man left to raise a child alone, her brother, who'd been barely four years old at the time. Her dad had vowed to never love again, yet he had; she'd seen the evidence herself, and she said as much to Bo.

"That's the thing, Little One," he said chuckling a bit. "I wasn't counting on meeting Carly Manning."

"Was it love at first site?" Ciara asked, surprised when her father burst out laughing.

"Hell, no, we clashed from the second we met," he explained when his laughter had subsided. "But then, before I even knew it had happened, I'd fallen in love with Carly. She healed me, made me whole again, and I knew that I'd never be truly happy unless we were together."

"Is that why you both came here, to finally admit how in love you were?" Ciara asked but Bo shook his head.

"Not quite. See, Little One, I knew I'd fallen in love with Carly, but I was stubborn and I was terrified of opening my heart to her. So I pushed her away, but it did nothing to diminish my feelings for her. In fact, I pushed her right into another man's arms, your grandfather's."

"What?" Ciara exclaimed, sitting up straight in the seat. "Carly and Grandpa Victor?"

"I know, believe me," Bo commiserated with his daughter. "Thinking about it even now makes me sick at my stomach. But your grandfather'd had a mild stroke, and Carly saved his life. When he was released from the hospital, he hired Carly as his personal physician to oversee his recovery. She was spending a lot of time with him, and he lavished her with attention and compliments and gifts and…"

"And all the while, you were still pushing her away," Ciara guessed rightly. When Bo nodded, she snorted. "Jeez, Dad, you really were a dumbass." He narrowed his eyes at her choice of words, but Ciara only scoffed again. "Really, Daddy? You, of all people, are going to lecture me about language? Have you _heard_ yourself and Shawn when you're watching football?"

"Be that as it may," Bo conceded. "Hearing my little girl call me a dumbass is a tad disconcerting."

"Okay, okay, I solemnly swear not to call you a dumbass again," she said, right hand raised to complete her oath, impish grin notwithstanding. "Now can we get on with the story?"

This time, Bo rolled his eyes, but he resumed his story. "It wasn't long before Victor asked Carly to marry him. She said yes because I was still denying my feelings, and the truth was, I couldn't blame her for her decision, not with how I'd been treating her. Just before the wedding, I broke down and poured out my heart to Carly in a letter, begging her to give us a chance and not go through with the wedding. But your grandfather intercepted the letter and forged a replacement, telling Carly the exact opposite of everything I'd written. So they got married, and during the reception, I found her out in the gardens, and I kissed her. I won't lie to you, Ciara, I was drunk, and I was angry, and I said some pretty hurtful things to her, but still, even though she was married and even though I was still being, as you so eloquently put it, a 'dumbass,' we couldn't stay away from each other, and it wasn't long before Carly found out the truth about the letter."

"What happened then? Did you finally admit how you felt about one another?" Ciara asked, eager for more details.

"We did, but…I lied to her," Bo confessed. When his daughter looked at him like he'd just murdered her puppy, he took a deep breath and began to explain. "There was an outbreak of a new virus, Ciara. A lot of other people had already contracted the virus, and Carly, because she's such a wonderful doctor and she's so damn smart, was already working on a cure. She'd finally been successful, but when she went to Washington, DC, to report on her findings, someone sabotaged her lab at the hospital. They destroyed her notes, her formula, everything. The virus worked quickly; most victims were dead within a couple of months, after suffering raging fevers and hallucinations, and Carly had been working around the clock for weeks to find a cure. She was exhausted both from the physical stress of working so hard and emotionally because of what Victor had done to her and what I did when I turned her away. But you see, honey, I'd already gotten sick. I'd known for weeks that I had the virus, but I didn't want Carly to know. I loved her so much, but I couldn't start a relationship with her, not when I knew I was dying. I didn't want Carly to be with me, only to lose me. I thought I was doing what was best for her so I lied to her; I told her that I'd moved on and met someone else, and I made your Aunt Kayla and your Aunt Isabella swear not to tell Carly the truth about my illness," Bo finished.

Ciara sighed heavily, shocked by all the things she'd learned. "For the record, Daddy, I get what you were trying to do," she said at last. "You thought you were going to die, and you didn't want Carly to go through what you had, when you thought Mom was dead."

"That's exactly right, Ciara, but I was wrong to have lied to Carly, even though I was trying to protect her. I was staying at your Aunt Isabella's loft, and she begged me to tell Carly the truth. They were best friends, Carly and your aunt," he told her and she nodded.

"Carly is Brady's godmother," Ciara said, remembering that her cousin was one of the few people in Salem who had stood by Carly.

"She is," he confirmed. "So anyway, I finally broke down and got a message to Carly at the hospital, asking her to meet me at Isabella's loft." Bo paused then, remembering the expression on Carly's face when she'd come running down the stairs of the loft. He'd struggled from the bed, barely able to stand, but determined to hold the woman he loved in his arms. She'd known, then, the truth about his condition, and she'd only held him, cared for him as best she could, loving him and vowing to save him, at any cost. His heart lurched at the memory, and he had to wait a few moments before he could speak again. "Carly, she, she got it in her head that your grandfather had a cure for the virus or that he could at least get his hands on it, and she was right. He agreed to get it for her, but only if she'd come back to him and fulfill her marriage vows. See, they'd never…" He stopped suddenly, afraid he was giving too much detail to his teenaged daughter.

Ciara held up her hand. "I get it, Dad, don't say anything more," she assured him though, truly, she was thankful to know that her grandfather and Carly had never slept together.

"Right, anyway, that's what he wanted in exchange for giving her the cure. I'd been hospitalized by then, and Carly realized that the cure Victor had given her was missing a key element. She tried several different compounds, and they all failed. Finally, she tried one last ingredient and throwing a Hail, Mary, she injected me with it."

"She must've been successful," Ciara observed with a tiny smile.

"That, she was, kid," Bo agreed. "But when your grandfather realized that she was never going to come back to him, he faked his death and framed Carly for the murder." Bo purposely left out the attempt Victor had made on his on life, the rigged elevator that had nearly killed Carly instead. Bo had forgiven Victor for that, and there were some things about her grandfather's dark past that Bo felt Ciara would be better off not knowing.

"Holy…cow," she finished off her father's glare. "I mean, I've always heard rumors about how shady Grandpa's past was, but to frame Carly for murder just because she wanted to leave him? What did he even hope to accomplish? I mean, it's not like they could live happily ever after if Grandpa were 'dead' and Carly was in prison for it," she wondered.

"The details don't really matter, honey," Bo told her. "What matters is that we figured out Victor was hiding in Cancun, and your Aunt Isabella and I came here to investigate. Carly jumped bail and came, too, and once we proved Victor was alive, we were able to clear Carly's name." Bo stopped again, taking a few moments to remember all that had come afterwards – their wedding atop _El Castillo_ , their wedding night and honeymoon in Cancun, their life together back in Salem before things went south, and fate, in the wicked forms of Vivian and Lawrence Alamain, had torn them apart. But those were memories that he would never share with his daughter, at least not all of them. Clearing his throat, he reached over and patted Ciara affectionately on the knee.

"I guess in all my ramblings, I still owe you an answer to your question, don't I?" When Ciara nodded, Bo didn't hesitate to tell his daughter what was truly in his heart. "I loved your mom, Ciara, and a part of me will always love her because of you and your brothers, just like I'll always care about Chelsea's mother, Billie. But I have never loved anyone as much as I love Carly, and if things had gone differently, if I'd been with Carly when your mom came back, I'd never have left Carly. But the fact is, we can't undo the past, and no matter what, I can't regret my life with your mom because after she returned, we had Zach and we had you." He paused, waiting on Ciara's reaction. When none came, he feared the worst, that he'd hurt his daughter with his honesty. Pulling off the road, Bo put the jeep in park and undid his seatbelt so that he could face Ciara.

"Little One, are you all right?" He asked tentatively. When Ciara turned to him, she was smiling softly, and Bo's heartbeat resumed its normal rhythm. Instinctively knowing that her dad needed to look into her eyes, she removed her sunglasses.

"It's okay, Daddy, really," she assured him. "Yeah, sure, if you and Mom had been able to stay together happily, that would've been great. But like you just said, we can't undo the past. You and Mom, both, have been nothing but miserable for a very long time. The only times I even remember seeing you remotely happy over the last _year_ are the few times I saw you with Carly, and now, after learning so much about her and about your relationship with her, I'm only sorry that I was such a brat to her and to you," she said earnestly.

Tugging his little girl to him, Bo pressed a kiss to her dark hair. "Honey, you don't have to apologize to me, not for anything. You were just a kid, and your mom and I did a piss-poor job of shielding you from our problems. You were hurting, and all we did was lob you back and forth between us. For that, I'm sorry, and whether Carly wants to give me another chance or not, I'm so glad to be on this trip with you," he whispered.

Ciara returned her father's embrace. "Me, too, Daddy, and thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth. I meant what I said the day we set sail; I _want_ to get to know Carly and I want to help you win her back. I'm a little fuzzy as to _how_ you're going to win her back, but by the time we reach L.A., I'll have a plan put together." She finished with a wink, and Bo marveled once more at the mature, caring, young woman his daughter had grown to be, seemingly in the blink of an eye.

"I bet you will, kid," Bo mused. "All right, I've got a lot more to show you, and we don't have much time. You ready to go?" Ciara nodded enthusiastically, already plotting out the first post she was going to make on Facebook chronicling her trip with her dad, a post that Carly would be certain to see, as long as Melanie kept her promise to help Ciara reunite their parents.


End file.
